


kind hearts don’t grab any glory

by neroh



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Background Relationships, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Cabins, Canon Gay Character, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Isolation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mystery, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Varchie - Freeform, Violence, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 13:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19132783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/pseuds/neroh
Summary: Instead of leaving Riverdale with Jughead, Kevin accompanies Archie to a secluded cabin until he and Betty are able to prove their friend's innocence and make Hiram Lodge pay for his crimes.Aka: Two teenaged boys alone in the middle of the woods...what could go wrong?Aka: My less insane take on Season 3 because what the fuck was that?





	kind hearts don’t grab any glory

**Author's Note:**

> I got plot bunnied with Kevin and Archie hooking up during episode 02x11 and this fic spiraled out of control from there. Thank you to Bre and Leah! <3
> 
> The title comes from "Kids in America" by Kim Wilde.

_It should be colder_ , he thinks.

After all half of his body is submerged in the frigid water while the rest of him clings to the frozen river. What Kevin expected…well, he doesn’t know. Perhaps the feeling of a thousand knives piercing his skin as the ice gave away with a loud, foreboding snap or freezing instantly if he wasn’t already shot before falling into Sweetwater River. Maybe he’d get tossed a bone and lose consciousness as soon as he was submerged.

That’s how they do it in the movies anyway.

Whatever he expected, it’s not the numbness or absolute exhaustion that keeps him in the water. Even his bloodied knuckles and the darkness tinging his blurry vision surprises him. And don’t let him start on his shoulder and lower back or the deep gash down the side of his thigh with the knife still embedded in the muscle.

If Kevin could ignore the fiery explosion of pain each time he moves, he would. He would already be halfway across the frozen lake and inside the Jaguar parked on the shore where he’s certain there’s a cell phone.

Digging his fingers into the snow-covered ice, Kevin forces his body to try pulling himself out of the water despite how much it shakes from the cold and the effort. He’s rewarded by the splash of the river soaking his already soaked clothing as he makes very little headway before groaning in defeat.

Pressing his bruised cheek against the frozen water, Kevin breathes out and watches his exhale curling into nonsensical shapes before vanishing. “Give yourself a minute,” he whispers through chattering teeth to no one in particular. Kevin silently recites wrestling moves until he deems himself ready for another attempt.

He aches—aches within the very molecular structure of his being—when he moves; like jagged glass tearing into his skin. Crying out, Kevin loses his tentative grip and plunges into the river once again. The one he used to swim in during the sweltering summers with his friends and that will likely be his grave if he doesn’t force himself out of the water. Kevin propels himself to the surface where the sweet, cold air greets his nostrils and inside of his mouth as he sucks in one precious breath after another as he collapses on the ice. It feels like millions of cuts as it passes to his lungs, but it means he’s still alive. He’s still breathing…for now. It won’t be too much longer until that, too, ceases.

Through the falling snow and darkness, he stares at the shoreline. A place he’s stood more times than he can remember with nuances he’s never paid attention to. He’s never noticed how the trees hang over the river, dangling their bare branches into the water, or the evergreens behind them, braving the elements year after year. Kevin wonders how much they’ve seen; certainly, every joy and sorrow making up the strange tapestry that is Riverdale. First kisses, summer picnics, falling in love, Jason Blossom’s bloated corpse, and now _him_ , an actual human popsicle.

For having such a mundane life, Kevin really thought he would die in an equally mundane fashion which, in hindsight, he wouldn’t really mind. Something traditional like passing away in his sleep at some ripe old age whilst surrounded by his loved ones and a few dogs. He’d even take a heart attack at this point; just not this.

Anything but this because _this_ will absolutely kill his dad.

Snow lands on his eyelashes and melts from what little body heat he has. The bitter cold fills his eyes or, maybe, it’s exhausted tears. Kevin isn’t sure about anything…other than he’s going to die.

He will because he wanted to protect his loved ones, no matter the cost. That’s something to be proud of in his final moments; something they’ll print in the _Register_ under his name and the brief summary detailing Kevin Keller’s short life. Maybe Betty will write it: the son of former Sheriff Keller and his absentee mother. Honors student and varsity wrestler. The token out and proud gay kid. A loyal friend to many and his heart taken by one Archie Andrews.

 _Archie_ , he thinks mournfully. God, he never told him how he felt and Kevin isn’t going to fool himself into thinking that Archie knows. The boy is gorgeous but oblivious. Then again running into the fray to save another’s life probably screams _I love you_ from the mountain tops.

It’s just…it would have been better if Kevin had been able to tell Archie in so many words.

He _wanted_ to tell him. He wanted to see Archie’s face light up when he did, even if it only happened once.

After all that Archie’s been through, this will absolutely _wreck_ him. Kevin wishes it weren’t true or that it wasn’t a certainty. Archie deserves more than this; he deserves all of the happiness Kevin won’t be able to give him and the promises they whispered to each other under the blankets; the ones he won’t be able to keep. He deserves a life where he doesn’t live in fear and feels safe again.

He thinks of Archie touching him with hands, lips and tongue and how Kevin did the same. He’s memorized every hill and valley of Archie’s body, the sounds he makes when they’re in bed, marveling how his muscles move under Kevin’s palms, or even rousing a smile from him. It makes Kevin realize in his delirious state that he’ll never experience these things again.

Someone else, God willing, but not him.

A hot tear slides down his cold cheek until it disappears, only leaving the memory of it on Kevin’s skin as his surroundings dim under the falling snow. Beyond the frozen river lies the shore where the car continues running and its headlights cast an eerie glow, twinkling merrily in the distance.

The warm light makes Kevin think of the cabin and the roaring fire in an otherwise darkened space. Of the sun shining through the windows and filling each room with its beams. Of lying in bed and waking early enough to watch Archie sleeping, his red hair illuminated by the morning.

Kevin thinks of those times as the headlights dim and the darkness swimming at the edge of his vision finally swallows him whole.

 

* * *

 

_Ten Weeks Ago_

Helpless screaming from the other bedroom wakes him.

Kevin presses his face into the pillow, groaning tiredly as he stretched his body against the mattress before rolling out of bed. The cabin creaks under his feet as he stumbles through the dark towards Archie’s room, having done this so often that it’s nearly second nature. There’s no need to bother with his iPhone on the nightstand or the clock on the wall outside the bathroom as he walks by.

This routine—and yes, Kevin realizes how morbid it is to even call it that, but if the shoe fits—is clockwork for them. Most nights he’s woken up by another nightmare and Archie’s resulting cries while other times insomnia plagues the other boy and Kevin finds him slumped over a book. Some days are better than others and others much worse. Then again the slight reprieves where they can pretend they’re at the cabin for some nameless school holiday rather than hiding out from law enforcement (and, consequently, Hiram Lodge) are better than okay; that’s not saying much.

As another incoherent scream pierces the still air of the cabin, Kevin realizes that tonight is going to be one of the bad ones. With a heavy sigh, he hurries to the closed door in front of him and throws it open, revealing the tangled, flailing lump that is Archie Andrews.

He approaches the bed to coax Archie out of another nightmare. From the moonlight filtering through the trees, Kevin notices Archie’s slick cheeks and matted hair stuck to his forehead. Whatever terrors hide behind his closed eyelids cause Archie to dive deeper or lash out. Even with the most gentle coaxing, Kevin’s had to dodge his fair share of curled up fists or fingernails attempting to claw his face. Luckily for Kevin, he’s fast and able to pin someone as strong as his friend thanks to being on the wrestling team since freshman year.

“Archie,” he whispers, resulting in another desperate whimper.

Cursing Hiram Lodge might make Kevin feel better before he tries to wake Archie, but it doesn’t begin to cover what that monster did to his friend. Some part of him must have known Archie wasn’t returning from Leopold and Loeb as the same kid who left; _he must have_. Kevin didn’t want to admit to the probability of it and hoped for the best like everyone else. He’s learned a few things since then: hope is fickle, done in vain and enjoys shitting all over the people who need it most.

Thinking about what was done to Archie makes Kevin seethe—even more so in moments like this—and he wishes he could torch every three-piece suit in Hiram Lodge’s wardrobe.

(Kevin realizes this isn’t on par with those revenge films Jughead forced their friends to watch on movie night, but he’s a pacifist for the most part and can’t bring himself to inflict bodily harm on anyone, including shitstains that happen to be one of his friends’ parents.)

“Archie,” he says again as he crouches down by his head. “Hey Arch, it’s alright. You aren’t there anymore; it’s just a nightmare.”

The scent of fear radiates off the other boy, filling the bedroom with a sickeningly sweet and sour aroma. Biting his lip, Kevin continues watching Archie as he thrashes on the bed, tangling his arms and legs in the sheets while he whimpers. “Archie,” he calls again—he’ll do it for as many times as he needs. “Open your eyes. You’re safe, Arch. They can’t hurt you here.”

Kevin notes that he never says _they can’t hurt you anymore_. Saying it would seem too cruel to Archie; like he was making a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep.

True, he’s been stealthily working with Betty to uncover the conspiracy but even that is slow going. With the odds stacked against them in the game of Hiram Lodge and his associates as well as law enforcement, they have to be extra careful. The communication between him and Betty is scant at best and filtered through his dad or Mr. Andrews. They’re the only people who know where he and Archie are; after all, the cabin used to belong to Kevin’s grandpa.

Archie’s arm knocks into Kevin’s knee, causing him to lose his balance for a moment. “Dammit Archie,” he mutters as he dodges another limb and thinks _this is definitely going to be a bad night_.

He sits on the bed and pulls Archie to his chest, tightening his grip as his friend fights him—or rather the images saturating Archie’s nightmares. “Archie,” he says with more force. “Hey, Arch. It’s okay. You’re safe, remember? They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“No!” Archie shouts, arms flailing as he fights against Kevin’s grip. “Don’t touch me! Stop, please!”

A sinking sensation fills Kevin’s stomach; if tonight’s events are anything to go by, it only validates the suspicions he has of his friend’s experience at Leopold and Loeb. It goes beyond the daily beatings and insolation, near-starvation and being forced to be prize fighter in an underground bloodbath, bruised knuckles, and the pink scar on Archie’s side. This is far worse than that.

A soft, panicked gasp ears his ears; Archie’s awake. Kevin continues holding him as his senses funnel back and he realizes where he is. A few tense moments later, Archie finally speaks. “Kevin?” he asks hoarsely.

“Do you know where you are?” Kevin asks, thus beginning the other part of their routine. The necessary question and answer portion they both hate so much, but it helps bring Archie back to the present.

Archie gulps and nods. “The cabin,” he intones. He turns his head enough to make out the lines of his profile. From his defined brow to his strong jaw, Kevin can’t help but admire him. “It belonged to your grandfather.”

“Who would never imagine that it’s being used to harbor a pair of teenaged fugitives,” Kevin says, trying to lighten the mood. It earns a tired snort from the other boy, which he supposes is better than nothing. Letting go of Archie, he stands and runs his hands over the front of his sweatpants. “I can put the kettle on.” He struggles through the momentary, yet overwhelming need to cringe because, _fuck_ , he sounds like an old British woman in a BBC serial.

Archie cards his fingers through his hair and shrugs. “Got something stronger?” he asks with a pale smile reminiscent of the one from before when he was carefree.

He’s about to say no, then doesn’t. They’re alone in the cabin with only a rusty truck to drive them to the next neighbor’s house and that’s a few miles away. Without any parental supervision and a liquor cabinet filled with whiskey and bourbon, Kevin decides to say the hell with it. “Are you okay with single malt?”

When Archie hesitates, Kevin thinks he might have misconstrued his joke until Archie nods; despite being on the run for the last few weeks, their interactions are still stilted and awkward. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Sure.” He motions to his damp t-shirt. “I’ll just…”

“Of course,” Kevin says, offering a cheery grin. “Meet you out there?”

Archie nods as he slips out of bed, avoiding Kevin’s eyes as he grabs another t-shirt from the dresser and disappears into the hallway. Moments later, the bathroom door shuts with a click. The sound of water running from the shower fills the cabin, leaving Kevin to his own devices. He goes into the kitchen to fetch two ceramic mugs, then heads to the seldom-used liquor cabinet.

Once he’s poured whiskey into both mugs, he sits on the couch and waits for Archie to make an appearance. For all they’ve been through, Kevin can’t say he knows Archie any better or vice versa. Leaving together was a spur of the moment decision their fathers made—no one would suspect them traveling with each other, nor would they question the former sheriff’s son being sent out of state until the Gargoyles and Griffins fiasco was sorted out.

Kevin was secretly thrilled to leave Riverdale in the wake of a very brutal break-up with one very closeted Moose Mason which was, well, _brutal_. They seemed to take two steps forward, three steps back until their relationship combusted for good. Holding his mug between clasped hands, he stares at the amber liquid and thinks it’s probably better this way; Moose can stick to what he knows best (girls) and Kevin can find someone better suited for him.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Archie says. He’s pulling on his sweatshirt when Kevin looks at him.

Kevin shakes his head. “I prefer small bills.” It earns a stifled chuckle from his friend as he comes to make himself comfortable in the armchair. Kevin pushes the other mug towards Archie and raises his own in a mock toast. “Bottom’s up.”

The whiskey burns. He’s never been much of a drinker and if he’s partaken, it’s usually beer from whatever keg Reggie Mantle’s brought with him. Kevin swallows with a grimace when he notices Archie still staring at his untouched mug—honestly, he looks a little green around the gills. “You don’t like it?” he asks.

Archie swallows hard like he’s remembering something he wishes he hadn’t. “Tea might be a better idea.”

“Probably,” Kevin agrees. “Want to keep me company?”

More awkward silence follows as he and Archie sit at the kitchen table and wait for the kettle. It’s always difficult after Archie’s had a nightmare—he retreats and Kevin struggles to console him. Honestly, Veronica and Betty are better at this and he wishes they were here. Even Jughead would do in a pinch. Kevin glances at Archie, who traces the tablecloth his grandma embroidered eons ago with his fingers, and wonders if he misses his guitar. Or he still writes songs.

Kevin clears his throat. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Archie meets Kevin’s stare, his deep brown eyes tinged with surprise as he shakes his head.

“Okay,” Kevin says, wondering if he’s overstepped. Man, he wishes he had a guide to deciphering Archie Andrews but alas, he’s stuck putting his foot in his mouth. “That’s fine. When you’re ready.”

Archie lowers his stare and nods. “Thanks, Kev,” he says quietly.

They go back to sitting in silence until the kettle whistles.

 

* * *

 

One thing Kevin learns is that Archie likes to use his hands to take his mind off whatever’s going through it.

Whether it be chopping firewood in the front yard, fixing the squeaking back door that’s been a thorn in every Keller man’s side since the cabin was first built, reorganizing the bookshelves (yes, really), or raking leaves, Archie works until he’s bone weary and has that half-open lids look about him. Kevin’s watched him stumble into the cabin with dirt smudged on his cheeks whilst making a beeline for the bathroom. One quick shower and a change of clothes later, Kevin finds Archie dozing on the couch where he stays until dinnertime.

Or if he’s had a particularly bad night—such as today—he continues working outside until his hands are raw and blistered, sometimes bloodied. And, unfortunately, it’s _exactly_ what Archie’s doing at this very moment. Kevin spies on him dragging fallen branches across the yard with the sun illuminating his red hair.

He’s glad that the brown dye they used finally washed out because Archie Andrews without his signature locks don’t look like Archie Andrews at all, which Kevin knows was the point. They needed to flee Riverdale—and the surrounding area without anyone spotting them—and a kid with a jawline that can cut glass and flaming red hair is not the most inconspicuous. However, Kevin is absolutely not thrilled at the sight of Archie’s bare hands. Kevin’s told him time and time again to wear gloves, though Archie _never_ listens and fledges forgetfulness when he comes in, grimacing in pain.

“You’re a glutton for punishment, Archiekins,” Kevin sighs as he dries the bowl in his hand since he’s now speaking to himself. He gives his friend one last glance before returning to his task. “Understatement of the year, Keller.”

An hour passes before Archie comes inside. He’s cursing under his breath as he runs water over his hands in the kitchen sink, which is where Kevin finds him. He’s removed his jacket and plaid overshirt, revealing the damp cotton tee that clings to his body. Kevin recalls the night he sat in Betty’s room, stealing a glance at a shirtless Archie through the window and declaring that he got hot. It was a trite and cavalier comment, but so _very_ true—even now.

“I know, I know,” Archie says with annoyance as Kevin approaches. “Wear gloves and this won’t happen.”

Kevin peers into the sink to see the water washing blood down the drain from a large gash. “Because it _won’t_ ,” he replies, exasperated. He grabs a dish towel and hands it to Archie so he can press it against the wound. “Go sit at the table while I get the first aid kit.”

“It’s not that bad,” Archie tells him.

“It _is_ that bad,” Kevin retorts. He nudges Archie towards the table. “We can’t risk going to a doctor if that gets infected. Not with the police and Hiram looking for us.”

Archie’s flinches at hearing Hiram Lodge’s name, leaving Kevin to wonder if he’s thinking of how his ex-girlfriend’s father left his life in shambles. “I know,” he intones darkly.

“Okay, good,” Kevin says, awkwardly as he motions to a chair. “Go sit. I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for Archie to take a seat before disappearing into the bathroom where the first aid kit’s kept. It’s bad enough they are stuck in the middle of the woods, but throwing Hiram Lodge—by _name_ , no less—into the mix will only put Archie in a foul mood and it’s all Kevin’s doing. Betty has always told him he has a horrible case of foot in mouth syndrome and he can’t help but agree. Kevin decides to give Archie a wide berth once he’s done cleaning up his hand which is ironic given that the cabin’s only four rooms.

“Idiot,” Kevin mutters under his breath as he ventures back into the kitchen where Archie waits for him. He sets the kit down on the table, then takes a seat. “So this might sting a bit.”

Archie shrugs. “Been through worse,” he says as Kevin peels the towel off his hand.

Kevin looks at Archie’s poorly concealed and troubled expression before opening the kit and taking out what he’ll need. With a cotton ball soaked in alcohol, he begins cleaning the wound as gently as he can. When Archie curses, Kevin apologizes immediately. “There’s no easy way to do this,” he explains as he continues dabbing Archie’s hand. “Other than you wearing gloves like you’re supposed to.”

“I will next time,” Archie promises in a strained voice. He slaps his foot against the wooden floor and grunts.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Kevin exchanges the alcohol-soaked, bloodstained cotton ball for a clean one and repeats the process until he’s satisfied that he’s gotten all of the dirt out. “You’re lucky that it’s not too deep.”

Archie grunts again. “Why? You don’t know how to do stitches?”

“Sadly, no,” Kevin says while squeezing antibiotic ointment onto the wound. “Unsurprisingly, I didn’t make it that far in RROTC.”

“Weren’t we in Cub Scouts together?”

Kevin nods as he spreads the ointment. “Before I decided that my time would be better served in being a theater geek.” He grabs a large piece of gauze to wipe his fingers, then a clean one and the roll of bandages laying next to it. “Also, I’m a big fan of indoor plumbing and central air.”

Archie chuckles softly as Kevin bandages up the wound. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I think Scout Master Doiley would have given you a badge for first aid.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Kevin replies without looking up. When he’s done with bandaging Archie’s hand, he inspects his handiwork. “Keep it from getting wet when you shower and we’ll let it air out later tonight.” He begins putting things away. “And remember–”

“Next time wear gloves,” Archie grumbles. He cradles his injured hand in the other, flexing his fingers while Kevin continues tidying up the soiled cotton balls and leftover gauze. “Kev.”

He stops what he’s doing to look at Archie, taking in the way he cradles in his injured hand and chews on his bottom lip. Despite being in each other’s constant company for the better part of a month and a half, each one of Archie’s mannerisms is a surprise. Then again, Kevin’s never paid that much attention before now. “Yeah?”

“Thanks,” Archie says with a bit of uncertainty. He forces an uncomfortable smile as he stands up. “I’m going to take a shower…unless you need me to do anything.”

Kevin shakes his head. “Just keep it from–”

“Getting wet,” Archie finishes as he heads towards his bedroom. “I know, I know.”

“If that was the case, I wouldn’t have to remind you all of the time!” Kevin shouts after him.

The bathroom door clicks shut and Kevin already knows Archie hasn’t heard him. With a sigh, he goes back to what he was doing before so the phantom sensation of Archie’s palm under his fingertips is easier to ignore.

Alas, attempting to ignore it is easier said than done.

 

* * *

 

Silence makes Kevin nervous.

Incidentally, nerves cause Kevin to say or do some of the stupidest shit he’s ever had the misfortune of hearing or seeing. Seriously, thinking about it makes him cringe. It’s probably a blessing that Archie’s asleep when Kevin stumbles into his bedroom, stopping in the doorway like a deer in headlights at the sight of the other boy sprawled out on the mattress. He lies on his stomach with an arm tucked against his side while the other hangs off the edge, dangling listlessly above the floor. Finding Archie completely relaxed for the first time since they arrived at the cabin makes it difficult to pry his eyes away from him. The fading sunlight illuminates the tips of his red hair and parts of his body, including where his shirt has ridden up on his torso to reveal a puckered, jagged scar near the waistband of his sweatpants—a souvenir left behind by a knife.

A knife used to stab him by Kevin’s ex-boyfriend, Joaquin. He’ll never know what madness provoked Joaquin and, perhaps, it’s better that way. Remembering his ex as an icy-eyed Adonis in a leather jacket, not the bewildered, hysterical person he turned into.

What Kevin _does_ remember is the wound Joaquin left behind on Archie’s body.

When it was new and inflamed from infection; an angry red oozing pus mixed with blood. It’s much lighter than before, already fading into its silvery retirement on Archie’s skin. Soon it’ll be a seldom-told horror story filled with abuse and events unfathomable…if Archie tells it at all. Judging by the constant nightmares and complete refusal to discuss them, Kevin doubts that Archie will be forthcoming about what happened to him at Leopold and Loeb.

And if he _did_ happen to talk, it wouldn’t be to Kevin. They might have grown up together but their friendship was effectively a Venn Diagram. Sure, it overlapped quite frequently, but he and Archie weren’t especially close. Archie Andrews was shared between Betty and Jughead—the three of them thick as thieves as they huddled in a booth at Pop’s or sat in a darkened movie theater, giggling because of an inside joke.

While he watches Archie sleep, Kevin imagines Archie will confide in Betty and Jughead once they return home.

 _If we go home_ , a little voice murmurs in his head before Kevin shoves it away. He doesn’t want to think about the alternative if the plans to expose Hiram and his schemes fail; it’ll mean Archie will spend his life on the run—and that is no life at all.

Kevin swallows at the thought just as Archie quietly grunts in his sleep, then adjusts his head on the pillow and pushes his cheek into the pillowcase. Goosebumps appear on his skin, running all the way up to his arm to the cuff of his t-shirt sleeve, where they disappear from sight. Knowing that moving Archie so he can get under the comforter is a fool’s errand—not to mention that Archie isn’t getting enough sleep as it is—Kevin scans the bedroom until his eyes fall on the dark gray afghan his grandmother knitted ages ago draped over a rocking chair.

The scent of pine hits Kevin’s nostrils as he grabs the blanket and begins unfolding it, reminding him of lazy summer afternoons with his family. Fishing on the docks with a cooler of soda for him and beer for his dad, uncles, and grandpa; chasing fireflies with his cousins at dusk, telling ghost stories when they should be sleeping, and baking in the kitchen with his grandma.

As he goes to cover Archie from his sock-covered feet to the curve of his shoulder, Kevin hopes the other boy sleeps through the night. It’s been ages since Kevin’s gotten a full eight hours. He knows Archie has no control over his nightmares, no more than Kevin does with the weather.

At least Archie’s able to get a nap in, giving Kevin a chance to check in with Betty on the battered laptop that weighs as much as a newborn baby. Through his sleuthing, Kevin has found a connection between Hiram Lodge and a town just within reach of Riverdale. Large amounts of transactions have been made between a shell corporation of Lodge Industries and said town. He doesn’t know what this means, but it’s the first break he and Betty have had in weeks.

It’s _something_.

Archie sighs, dragging his feet over the comforter and adjusts himself. His dangling hand twitches against Kevin’s calf, fingers catching on the material of his jeans. Kevin pauses, literally standing there like an idiot with the blanket in his hands while holding his breath. He dares to glance down, watching in silence as Archie’s brows furrow and he yawns. His dark eyes appear under a fan of lashes, sleepy and bright. “Kev?” he mumbles.

He inhales at the rough sound of Archie’s voice saying his name and the burn of his cheeks. God, he hopes the other boy doesn’t notice. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Kevin says, embarrassed. “I’m just going to cover you up; go back to sleep.”

“Are you tucking me in?” Archie asks, sleepily. His lips twitch in amusement.

“Yeah,” Kevin replies, unable to lie. “I am.” He lays the blanket over Archie and smoothes it down. “There…all done,” he says awkwardly as he takes a step back.

Archie chuckles as he closes his eyes. “Haven’t been tucked in since I was a kid. It’s nice.”

“Well,” Kevin says, feeling relieved. “Just don’t ask me to sing to you.”

“What if I say please?”

Spit gets caught in Kevin’s windpipe as he tries to swallow. _Is Archie flirting with him?_ “I might consider it.”

“Hmm,” Archie mumbles. “I’ve heard you sing before…before rehearsals when you thought no one was around.”

Kevin realizes Archie means rehearsals for _Carrie: The Musical_. It isn’t abnormal for him to sing to himself or crank up the radio when a favorite song comes on—but only when he’s alone. Kevin becomes bashful when people hear him, stuttering and turning bright red. He thinks of Cheryl’s words of being the fat boy with acne, always hiding in the wings because it’s safer there. “Oh? How didn’t your ears bleed?”

“Nah man, you were great.” Archie presses his cheek into the pillow. “Wish you would do it more often.”

He waits until he’s certain that Archie’s asleep before whispering, “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Seeing Betty’s digitized Grace Kelly looks smiling at him through their Discord chat is a wondrous thing.

It also makes Kevin’s heart yearn for home.

“Kev,” she greets like a sigh. He notices the weariness around her eyes—he feels the same in his marrow. This situation they’ve found themselves thrust into is not meant for teenagers. It’s an adult’s folly and has ripped the last of their innocence away. “You look…”

“Tired,” Kevin offers with a grin. “Very tired.” He chuckles, sadly, and wishes Betty were here. “You, on the other hand, look fresh as a daisy! I’m thinking first season Betty Draper.”

Betty tilts her head, nose scrunched and lips pursed together, as she contemplates Kevin’s assessment. “Not a Hitchcock Blonde?”

She has a point; the comparison is apt considering they are trying to uncover Hiram Lodge’s crimes. “Kim Novak in _Vertigo_ or Grace Kelly in _To Catch A Thief_ or both,” Kevin tells her. “But they have nothing on you, Betty Cooper!”

A smirk forms on her lips as Betty rolls her eyes. She turns serious after a few moments. “How are you doing?”

Kevin watches Betty make that concerned expression—the one where she softens her features and radiates comfort, even being so far away. He scoots closer to the computer screen, fidgeting as he tries to piece together an answer that won’t alarm Betty. “I’m fine,” he says. “You know me…keeping busy.”

“Keeping busy?” she replies, humoring him. One of her golden eyebrows raises. “Chopping wood?”

“And darning socks.”

Betty snorts. “Aren’t you just Ma Ingalls.” Leaning closer to the camera, Betty watches Kevin carefully before asking, “How’s Archie?”

Swallowing nervously, Kevin straightens his shoulders. He’s painted a murky picture when he’s able to give Betty scant details without alerting anyone who might be listening. Despite the measures they’ve taken, privacy is never assured. “It’s been rough,” Kevin tells her. “He’s been having trouble sleeping; nightmares.” He sighs, thinking of the night before. “ _Lots_ of nightmares.”

“Still?” she muses.

“Betty, he’s been through hell,” Kevin says pleadingly. What he’s pleading for, he has no idea. Maybe a bit of understanding or sympathy. What’s happened to Archie isn’t something that’s going to disappear from memory anytime soon. “We need to be patient.”

She covers her mouth with her hand while her green eyes brighten from tears. “I know, Kev,” Betty whispers in a trembling voice. “Has he talked about any of it?”

“Not yet.” Kevin scrubs a hand over his face as the feeling of defeat weighs heavily on his shoulders. “I’m not you or Jughead…or even Veronica.”

“You’ve known each other since you were kids…”

Kevin nods. “But he was always _yours_ ; yours and Jughead’s. We’re friends, but not like you guys.” He runs his teeth over his bottom lip. “The three of you were always together like musketeers. Archie would confide in you, not me. I’m his friend, but not like that.”

“We’re not there, Kev,” Betty says gently. “He needs someone.”

He hates that Betty’s right. He hates that they’re all embroiled in this mess of Hiram’s creation. He hates that Archie’s suffering while Kevin watches helplessly. Kevin wishes Archie would speak to him about what happened at Leopold and Loeb, even if what he tells is as horrifying as Kevin’s imagining. _I’m not that person_ , Kevin thinks as he stares back into Betty’s bright green eyes.

The subject needs to change and it does with a few clicks on the mousepad; a moment later Betty’s computer dings with the arrival of the encoded document he sent. “We should go over what I found,” Kevin tells her in stern finality.

They do.

 

* * *

 

Leave to Kevin to lose track of time in the thick of research.

He shifts against the couch cushions, wincing at how his muscles twinge with the movement and wincing even more when he notices what time it is. Nearly sunrise and Kevin’s hardly left his seat since saying his goodbyes to Betty. Cracking the cartilage in his neck, Kevin muses that at least one of the occupants of the cabin got a full night’s sleep and, honestly, Archie _needs_ it more than him.

Speaking of which, Kevin ought to check on Archie before getting a few hours of sleep for himself. He shuts down his research on large shipments of lysergic acid and methylenedioxymethamphetamine heading into some ghost town called Evergreen—population: barely enough to be on a map, much less the internet. It took hours for Kevin to find it, though the connect to Hiram Lodge’s nefarious activities is yet to be seen. He’s close; he can feel it.

Kevin stands to stretch while the laptop turns off when he catches the rising sun’s golden and pink rays peeking through the morning mist and trees, creating the illusion that even water could light on fire. He thinks of Archie and decides sleeping can wait. Kevin hurries into Archie’s bedroom where he finds the other boy just as he left him, sprawled out on the bed and punctuating the air with soft snores. A Charles-André van Loo chalk drawing he saw in a textbook once comes to mind; the subject had been a man in repose much like Archie is. From the mussed up hair to the supine posture, Archie looks as peaceful as the unknown man.

“Archie,” Kevin beckons softly, lightly touching the other boy’s shoulder. He doesn’t shake him; not yet. Archie grunts as his features scrunch up. “Psst,” Kevin says, earning a tired groan and a sliver of dark brown eyes.

Blinking, Archie squints at Kevin in the low light of the bedroom. “Everything okay?” he asks; it comes out as a string of mumbling more so than words.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Kevin tells him. His hand slips down to Archie’s wrist and tugs it. “I want to show you something. You’ll need your shoes and a sweatshirt.”

This earns a skeptical look from Archie as he gets out of bed.

“It’s worth it…I promise,” Kevin assures.

Once they’re bundled up in layers, Kevin leads Archie to the seldom-used loft that overlooks the living room and kitchen. He goes to the big picture window and struggles with the locks while Archie watches; it’s not surprising since no one’s opened it in years. The sash sticks to the frame, but with some elbow grease, Kevin’s hard work is rewarded with a blast of chilly air.

“Come on,” Kevin urges enthusiastically as he pulls his body through the window. Frost catches on his jeans as he wiggles the rest of the way out, dusting himself off once he’s standing. As a child, Kevin remembers the roof seeming impossibly high and while it’s not exactly Everest, he wouldn’t jump down unless it was absolutely necessary. “Well?” he asks when he realizes Archie’s still lingering inside.

It’s the final push that leads to Archie joining him. “What are we doing up here?” the other boy asks.

He gestures to the kaleidoscope of fiery colors coming through the trees. “Watching the sunrise,” Kevin says as he sits down. Glancing up at Archie, there’s a second he thinks the other boy might go back inside—until Archie chuckles and takes a seat next to him.

“I’m not usually awake this early,” Archie admits as he shoves his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

Kevin shrugs. “Sometimes I am when I’m feeling particularly restless,” he says, never taking his eyes off the horizon. “I like to go running to clear my head.” He doesn’t mention the midnight jaunts to Fox Forest or how he’d meet Moose behind the woodshed at the edge of the Mason property. Come to think of it, he wonders if Betty told Archie about the former despite that seeming out of character for her.

Then again, Jim Morrison said people are strange, though Kevin prefers the Echo & The Bunnymen version if anyone’s asking.

“I’ve seen you pass my house a few times,” Archie mentions casually as they watch the sun rise over the trees and shower their surroundings in gold with hints of pinks and oranges. “Does it help?”

Turning to Archie, Kevin finds his friend pink-cheeked from the chill and staring back at him with eyes resembling the color of amber. He mouth goes dry. “With what?” Kevin manages to ask.

Archie pulls his knees close to his chest and looks impossibly young. “With feeling restless.”

The question is veiled under a pretense of exercise; a casual conversation on a cabin rooftop as the sun peeks over the treetops. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what Archie’s asking—is there a way to help him forget—and it’s the first time Archie’s come close to speaking about what happened to him. While Kevin has made it a point not to speculate, he can’t help the tendrils of worst-case scenarios that funnel into his imagination when he least expects it. He thinks it’s similar to how Archie’s nightmares get the better of him on most nights.

“Honestly?” Kevin pokes at a roof tile and shrugs. “It’s fifty-fifty.”

Archie makes a sound likened to a grunt or sigh; It’s not particularly positive…or negative really. “That sucks.”

“What about you? What do you do when you’re feeling particularly antsy?”

“Beat off,” Archie says before his eyes go comically wide like Kevin’s own and they look at each other. The color on his cheeks deepens as nervous laughter tumbles from his lips.

Kevin can’t help but do the same. “That was refreshingly honest.”

“That was so _embarrassing_!” Archie laments with another chuckle. He runs his hand through his hair and shoves it back into his sweatshirt pocket. “Uh…I write, too.”

“Songs,” Kevin supplies. “I remember.”

The expression of amusement and embarrassment darkens to one of remembrance. Archie gets lost in his own head before blinking himself back to the present; something must have happened that he’s not ready to tell Kevin about. “I _used to_ write songs,” he corrects. “Not anymore.”

“But you’re talented, Arch,” Kevin insists. He doesn’t dole his compliments out often and isn’t doing it because Archie is _hot_. “I mean it. That one song you played us…it was fantastic! Like Shawn Mendes, but more worldly and with red hair.”

Archie’s lips twitch; it’s not the smile Kevin’s looking for, but it will do. “If I’m going to leave Riverdale.” He pauses for a moment and wrinkles his nose. “For college,” he says, “it’s not going to be because of music.”

“It could be.”

“It’s not really a stable career.”

Kevin scoffs. “What is nowadays?” He nudges Archie with his elbow. “It’s one thing if it doesn’t make you happy anymore, but another if you’re trying to do what’s expected of you. So which one is it?”

“I dunno,” Archie admits after a few moments. “A bit of both, maybe. Having my eyes opened to how shitty the world can be.”

While he can’t understand it, he wants to show his support. “Before you pull the plug on your musical aspirations, give it some thought once things die down,” Kevin suggests as he clasps Archie’s shoulder and squeezes it. “We should probably go back inside.”

Archie nods in agreement. Once they’re back in the warmth of the cabin and Kevin’s about to go faceplant in the softness of his bed, Archie grabs his wrist. Kevin looks at him expectantly.

“Why did you come with me?” Archie asks. They’ve been here for nearly two months and have never talked about Kevin’s reasoning.

“I needed a bit more adventure in my life,” Kevin bullshits.

Archie stares at him, confused. “More than breaking me out of prison and acting as a decoy,” he says dubiously.

“I wanted to complete the trifecta,” Kevin adds.

The other boy tilts his head. “Fine, don’t tell me,” he says after a while.

He watches Archie head towards the kitchen and curses under his breath. “Moose,” Kevin blurts out. When Archie turns, he groans in frustration. “Moose and I broke up before…so leaving for a while seemed like a better option than seeing him in the hallways every single day.” Looking at his sneakers, Kevin shoves his hands into his pockets. “Breakups are never fun, but imagine people not even knowing you were dating in the first place.”

“That’s shitty,” Archie says, softly.

Kevin huffs a flat laugh. “That’s being the only out gay kid in a small town high school.”

“Well, I’m glad you came,” Archie tells him.

He looks up, surprised because honestly, he thought Archie would have preferred Jughead or Betty to Kevin by his side. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning lopsidedly before he goes into the kitchen to make himself breakfast. He stops and turns around. “And Kev? Moose should have fought harder for you.”

Stunned, Kevin stands there with his mouth hanging open while his eyes burn. His breakup with Moose before he left town happened so quickly that Kevin never got to lament over his romantic life with Betty and hear her kind words that would ultimately make him feel a tiny bit better. Hearing it from Archie leaves him feeling breathless in a most decidedly manner of a simpering, headstrong heroine.

“Thanks,” Kevin manages to tell Archie.

Archie shrugs. “Just being honest,” he says before leaving Kevin to his own devices.

 

* * *

 

Lying in bed, he thinks of them sitting on the cold tiles of some medical room in Shadow Lake Hospital.

Archie with his head bowed between his knees and Kevin’s hand on his shoulder, offering comfort while the other boy cried. Three dead witnesses, no evidence pointing in Hiram Lodge’s direction, and a manhunt for a scared teenager while the rest of Riverdale was losing its collective mind. In other words, Archie was _fucked_ and being in their town was only putting a target on his back. He needed to leave despite how it might have looked or there would be more dead bodies, including the possibility of his own.

“Hiram wants to destroy me,” Archie sobbed into his dad’s shoulder. “I can’t stay here.”

And neither could Kevin with all the Griffins and Gargoyles nonsense polluting the minds of Riverdale’s teenagers. The temptation was becoming too strong as his friends, one by one, succumbed to the game’s pull or worse. His father offered Kevin and the Keller cabin up as a place for them to stay until they could prove that Hiram was behind everything.

“Besides,” Kevin’s father whispered as Archie slept on the couch, finally exhausted from the day’s exploits, “no one would suspect these two running off together.” Tom Keller looked pointedly at his son. “And I don’t want you getting involved with Griffins and Gargoyles; it’s too dangerous.”

Thinking of Dilton and Ben, Kevin swallowed. Two dead boys and Ethel in the hospital; it was too much. Kevin’s gaze drifted towards Archie, who even in sleep looked painfully exhausted. In those moments, he remembered Archie stammering that he couldn’t return to Riverdale and how Kevin readily jumped at the opportunity to leave with him. It was an overwhelming need; definitely something he couldn't ignore. “Yeah,” Kevin agreed. “You’re right.”

As Kevin stares up at the ceiling, the realization of Moose having very little to do with him joining Archie slams into him.

“Idiot,” Kevin whispers to himself for not seeing it sooner. He rolls onto his side with a groan. “ _Idiot._ ”

 

* * *

 

Kevin remembers a tarot card he saw once at the Founders’ Carnival—a toppling building complete with falling rocks and a lightning strike.

Honestly, the card looked menacing enough for goosebumps to pop up on Kevin’s arms. While the name escapes him, the meaning doesn’t. _Barriers fall quickly,_ the tarot reader told him as they sat in a darkened, incense smelling tent that did little to deafen the noises coming from outside. Kevin nodded in faux understanding and left feeling like he just wasted twenty bucks.

(In retrospect, Kevin thinks he should have paid closer attention since his parents sat him down to announce they were divorcing later that week.)

A few days pass since the morning Kevin dragged Archie to the roof to watch the sunrise. He’s noticed their interactions are less stilted than before—easier, more natural—but nowhere near to Archie confiding his deepest, darkest secrets to Kevin. While Betty might not like it, Kevin can’t bring himself to complain. The atmosphere in the cabin is better than it’s been from the moment they arrived. There’s more laughter, for one, and a full night’s sleep for another.

It’s progress. Not a lot, but enough.

Until Archie’s screams jolt Kevin out of his research on the fourth night. He’s out of his chair like a shot, already running towards the other bedroom before he has time to think about it. One moment Kevin’s tracing payments made to a woman he suspects is Hiram’s mistress and can’t wait to tell _someone_ about it, then he’s rushing down the hallway with Archie’s helpless cries guiding the way.

He stubs his toe on the bench his grandmother _insisted_ on putting in the hallway when it really should be in a mudroom or, you know, _out of the way_. Pain aside, it does little to stop him. Kevin’s only focused on Archie and how many ways Betty will kill him if something happens to their friend. The sounds of gagging and stomach contents hitting the floor reach Kevin’s ears as he draws closer to the bedroom.

Archie had a similar reaction to a nightmare the first night he escaped from Leopold and Loeb, though Betty had been there to tend to him. The only reason Kevin knows about it is he was next on the watchlist and saw her lug away vomit-stained sheets.

 _At least there’s a washer and dryer,_ Kevin thinks as he licks his lips and opens the door, expecting the worst.

Silhouetted by the moonlight coming in from the window behind him, Archie has his knees drawn to his chest as he tries to control his breathing and sobs. Even in the poor lighting, Kevin sees his chest heaving like he’s on the verge of hyperventilating.

Crossing the room, the smell of vomit meets Kevin halfway there. He pushes it out of his mind since, frankly, Archie needs him to remain calm and not gag from a weak stomach. “Hey,” Kevin says in what he hopes is a soothing tone. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Archie retorts as tears fall down his already wet cheeks. He rubs his sleeve under his nose, wiping away spit and snot. “It’s not okay…it’ll _never_ be okay!” He looks at Kevin, his expression both lost and angry. “I can feel _them_ every night in my sleep, Kev! Every. Single. Night!”

Them—the identities of the people in Archie’s worst nightmares. Kevin’s never heard Archie mention or put a name to them and he’s hasn’t wanted to push the subject.

“I can smell them,” Archie continues, disgusted. “Hear them…like they’re still in the room with me. And I know they aren’t. That it’s impossible…” Taking a shaky breath, Archie wipes both cheeks with his hands, ignoring the fresh tears replacing the old ones. “But they appear just when I think I’m safe!” A sob falls from his lips and then another, stealing his breath with fearful gasps while his entire body trembles. Once he’s able to calm himself, Archie says, “They used us in an underground fight club. Did Ronnie tell you?”

Kevin swallows, wondering if it’s a trick question before he nods. “She mentioned something like that.”

“She doesn’t know what else they did,” Archie whispers, more tears pooling in his eyes. The dark irises appear nearly black; like pools under a moonless night. “How the men betting on us could…” He chokes on an anguished cry. “I didn’t know what was happening the first time. I thought it might have been a scare tactic so I would keep winning…but then they were holding me down…and they tore off my shorts.” Archie shudders in remembrance. “And this man…”

He doesn’t need to elaborate on what happened; Kevin figures it out fairly quickly and his heart aches for Archie. As much as his gut told him this was the case, Kevin hoped he was wrong. He wanted to be wrong and have his friend’s mistreatment end with near-daily beatings and being an unwilling participant in the fight club.

Not that the not-so-dearly departed Warden Norton allowed—and was probably paid handsomely—for his prisoners to be sexually assaulted by the highest bidder.

Kevin dares to move closer to reach for him to offer some comfort only have his hand batted away. There’s a wild look in Archie’s eyes like he’s ready for a fight. “It’s just me,” he says as he leans over to flick on the bedside lamp. “It’s just me, Arch.”

In the dim golden light, Archie looks painfully exhausted—physically and emotionally exhausted. It shows in his face and posture and his bleary stare. Vomit stains the collar of his t-shirt where it hasn’t puddled on the sheets. “Just don’t…” he stammers, trying to find his voice. “Please don’t…”

One wrong move and Archie could end up having a flashback. Kevin backs away. “I won’t,” he promises. “Not unless you say it’s alright.” The relief at seeing Archie nod knows no bounds. “Okay, good. Why don’t you take a shower while I clean this up?” He gestures to the soiled sheets. “And you can sleep in my bed.”

Archie nervously looks at his surroundings as if he’s expecting to be reprimanded for making a mess. “Where will you sleep?” he asks quietly; it’s practically a whisper.

“The couch,” Kevin tells him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He stands and motions for Archie to do the same, trying not to feel hurt when Archie does so in hesitation. “Just leave your dirty clothes outside the bathroom door so I can throw them in the wash, too.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Archie says like a plea.

Kevin shakes his head. “I know I don’t, but I want to.” He offers his friend what he hopes is a kind smile. “Do you need me to get you anything; a glass of water, some tea?”

“Water,” the other boy softly replies.

Kevin can’t help but notice the lost look on Archie’s face as he begins rummages through the dresser drawers for clean clothes. “One water coming right up,” he says jokingly before leaving so his friend can have the berth to process his confession without an audience there to watch. He goes into the kitchen to grab a clean glass when he hears the sound of the bathroom door being shut.

He lets out a deep sigh he feels throughout his body as he listens to the shower being turned on and the glass door sliding close. Setting the glass down, Kevin goes into Archie’s room and strips the bed until it’s only the bare mattress and pillows. Even as Kevin runs the sheets and Archie’s soiled clothes in the sink before tossing them into the washer, he thinks of the fear he saw glimmering in his friend’s eyes—that Kevin might reject Archie after knowing what was done to him.

 _Warden Norton better be burning in Hell,_ Kevin thinks as he stomps back to the kitchen; the world would be entirely unfair if this weren’t the case. Anger—rage, even—thrums under his skin as he snatches the glass off the counter and begins filling it with water from the sink. Kevin feels his emotions churning, growing red hot until he takes another breath and it dissipates.

“Okay,” Kevin says as he shuts off the faucet and stares into the glass where the water ripples in his trembling hands; he can’t lose his temper when Archie needs to be comforted. They are hundreds of miles away from their loved ones with only each other to rely on. The very idea of it terrifies Kevin, but this is what he signed up for and he needs to follow through.

He also needs to remake the mess he made of his bed.

Hurrying towards his bedroom, Kevin hears Archie splashing while he washes. As soon as he’s near the bedside table, he sets down the glass and begins turning the bed from looking like a cyclone hit it to something one might see in a hotel. He’s fluffing the pillows when the floor creaks behind him. Kevin finds Archie in the doorway, wearing a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt with his arms wrapped around his middle. “I’m almost done here,” he assures, “and your water’s right here if you need it.”

“Thanks,” is all Archie says. Then again, he’s said enough for tonight.

Kevin waves him off. “No need to thank me. Besides, the couch is pretty comfortable if I just remember not to roll off the edge.” The tiniest huff of amusement reaches Kevin’s ears and when he looks at his friend, he finds remnants of a smile on Archie’s face.

It’s faint, but there.

“Well, goodnight,” Kevin says so suddenly that it even sounds awkward to his ears. He goes to leave when Archie calls his name. He turns. “Did you need something?”

“Could you stay for a while?” Archie asks. “Until I fall asleep,” he adds.

“Yeah, of course,” Kevin says, watching his friend as he goes to the bed and slides under the covers. Kevin takes a seat by the headboard and wonders what they might talk about. Certainly not the night’s events, though he has an idea. “Tell me about that car you built over the summer.”

Archie runs his fingers through the wet hair on the back of his head, shrugging haphazardly. “My dad found this hunk of metal in the junkyard and towed it to the garage. We began working on it, then asked Betty for help. She’s amazing with cars…and computers—she fixed my laptop once—and pretty much anything she can get her hands on.”

Kevin nods in agreement. “Betty Cooper, the one-woman show,” he says. “There’s nothing she can’t do!”

“Right?” Archie chuckles. “She’s going to take over the world someday.”

“And the world will be better for it.”

Archie cracks a shy smile. “What about you? Did you do anything fun over the summer?”

Fun is a relative term. In truth, Kevin spent most of his time when he wasn’t with Moose at the courthouse to sit in an overly hot courtroom as a farce of justice was carried out. One of which Archie doesn’t need reminding of. “Basking in the sun, being free of burdens, staying out late and sleeping in,” he says.

Archie rolls onto his side. “That must have been nice, to be able to hang out with Moose.”

“Without prying eyes and wagging tongues? Yeah, it was,” Kevin replies wistfully. He trails his fingers over the comforter, touching every loving stitch his grandmother sewed.

His friend’s foot nudges his knee. “Are you okay?”

“I was just thinking.”

“About Moose?”

Kevin shakes his head. “My parents used to bring me here when I was younger. It’s where my family would come during the summer—my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins…this cabin was never quiet. Even late at night, you could hear the kids telling ghost stories when we should have been sleeping.”

“How many cousins were here with you?”

“Seven and I was the youngest.” Kevin chuckles at the memory of the antics he and cousins got into. “My cousins used to play hide and seek in the woods and I wanted to keep up with them, you know? Climb the highest trees, catch the most fish. When I was six, I decided that I was going to find the best hiding spot and I did.” He looks at Archie, grinning. “In the middle of stinging nettle.”

Archie howls with sudden laughter. “No!” He falls onto his back, snorting and hiccuping at Kevin’s expense. For a moment, he nearly looks like the boy Kevin remembers. The one that used to be carefree with an easy smile on his face. “Oh man, that _sucks_!”

“Laugh it up, Archie Andrews,” Kevin grumbles as he hoists a pillow over his head and whacks Archie. “One of these days, I’ll find that bush and push _you_ into it!”

They continue like this well into the night; with Archie and Kevin laughing as they trade stories about their childhood and commiserating on shared memories of Riverdale. It wipes away the nightmares from their minds, allowing both boys to enjoy each others’ company as they used to when they were amongst friends. Kevin thinks of sharing a booth at Pop’s, sitting in the cafeteria, or squashed together on a couch in the student lounge and how he and Archie took it for granted. Then again, neither of them had any idea that their lives would face upheaval so quickly.

Light from the late morning sun wakes Kevin, causing him to groan and raise his hand to block its rays from his eyes. He begins to wonder when he fell asleep as the realization of another person being in bed with him causes Kevin to go shock-still. Swallowing, he peers over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of red hair in messy disarray. Turning his entire body with care until he’s face to face with Archie, Kevin stares at his friend, who remains blissfully unaware of being watched. It was only days ago that Kevin had done the same thing before waking Archie to watch the sunrise and yet, this seems more intimate.

He’s seen Archie through the aftermath of his ordeal without batting an eye, so yes, this is most definitely intimate.

Almost too intimate for friends, but Kevin isn’t able to dwell on it. Archie begins to stir, yawning and stretching until he looks at Kevin, neither seeming surprised or frightened by finding Kevin next to him.

Strangely, he seems amused.

“Morning,” Archie greets as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“I didn’t know I fell asleep,” Kevin blurts out. His cheeks begin to burn. “I mean…I did. When I woke up.”

Archie bites his lip in a poor attempt to conceal his laughter. “I know. You fell asleep after I did,” he says with a chuckle. Tilting his head, Archie’s expression turns stoic as he gazes at Kevin. “Oddly enough, it was the first time I didn’t have any nightmares.”

“Really?” Kevin asks. Honestly, he thought Archie was going to tell him that he snored or tease him for drooling, not this. He watches Archie nod, unashamed. “That’s good.”

“I should probably finish the laundry and remake my bed,” Archie tells him. He throws his legs over the mattress and stretches, his muscles working under his shirt. “Maybe we could go on a hike after breakfast.” He turns to Kevin. “You game?”

Kevin nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m game.”

 

* * *

 

They spend the day exploring the woods.

He and Archie have done it before—in the beginning of their seclusion together—though not with such enthusiasm. Kevin remembers dragging his friend out of the cabin, pulling on him until Archie reluctantly went and staying silent while Kevin tried to force a conversation. Neither could appreciate the beauty surrounding them or each others’ company.

Now Archie marches ahead of him, practically bouncing with each step as he talks. “This is better than football or wrestling practice,” he declares.

“Don’t let Coach Kleats _or_ Coach Clayton hear you say that!” Kevin warns with a laugh.

Archie twists around and begins walking backward. “But am I right?” he asks, grinning widely; it’s one Kevin hasn’t seen in a while.

Kevin only shrugs in reply, much to Archie’s mock annoyance. “You know how Kleats can be!”

“Don’t remind me,” the other boy grouses. “Remember those early Saturday morning drills?”

“I’m used to it.” He notices Archie’s surprise and sighs. “I’ve been on the wrestling team since freshman year. Let’s just say he transformed me from the fat kid with acne and no friends to, well…” Kevin gestures at himself.

Archie raises his brows. “A good looking guy who _always_ had friends,” he supplies, almost like he’s flirting with him.

“You forgot an excellent cook and expert tea maker,” Kevin adds quietly. He wonders if he’s imagining the whole thing because he’s lonely and misses Moose; misses being wanted.

“Excellent cook?” Archie says in disbelief. “You burnt dinner last night!”

Kevin rolls his eyes. “Once!”

“My stomach will never recover,” the other boy teases.

Running a hand over his face, Kevin groans. “At least I don’t burn water, Archie Andrews.” He laughs at the dismayed screech Archie makes and how his cheeks turn red. “I’m only reporting facts!” he exclaims, holding his hands up.

“I can’t believe Betty told you,” the other boy bemoans as he slows down. Leaning against a tree, he waits for Kevin to catch up to him, his teeth tugging his bottom lip as he grins impishly.

Kevin shrugs as he unzips the pack he’s been wearing and grabs one of the water bottles. “When you’re the GBF, you hear a plethora of tales that include the embarrassing ones,” he says before removing the cap and taking a sip. “She also told me about the time you and Jughead went to the swimming hole and ended up covered in slugs.”

Archie buries his face in his hands. “Oh man!” he groans, voice muffled. Kevin notices the flush on his friend’s skin has reached the root of his red hair. “What else did she tell you?” Archie dares to ask as he peeks out from between his fingers.

“She might have mentioned how she tutored you in reading so you wouldn’t be held back a year and that you kissed her before asking Betty to marry you,” Kevin softly replies, remembering when he heard the story while they watched _Pretty In Pink_ in his bedroom. Like it did then, it fills Kevin’s stomach with warmth. “But she insisted you guys were too young.”

Thoughtfulness softens Archie’s expression as he chuckles. “Betty Cooper will rule the world one day,” he says.

“That she will,” Kevin agrees. He passes the water bottle to Archie, who takes a sip. “Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you two got together?”

He really shouldn’t ask the question, but curiosity wins. The night he peered out Betty’s bedroom window to find Archie pulling on a shirt before declaring Archie got hot comes to mind. Betty had finally gathered her courage to tell her long-time friend that she wanted their relationship to become romantic and Kevin was happy for her. He’d been pushing for it all summer, after all.

Now he stands achingly close to Archie with the clean scent of sweat and shower gel reach his nostrils, wrapping him in a pleasant cloud. Archie’s still hot—probably hotter if Kevin’s being honest—and still straight while Kevin nurses his broken heart and is still _very_ gay.

“Not really,” Archie admits after a few moments. He wipes his mouth on his arm and passes the bottle back with a casual shrug. “I think it would only drive me crazy, you know? The what-ifs.”

It makes sense—what good would dwelling on past decisions do for anyone? “Riverdale seems to be a town built on what-ifs,” Kevin says.

“That, my friend, it is,” Archie sighs. His enthusiasm returns as Archie grabs Kevin by the wrist and tugs him forward. “Break’s over! We have more ground to cover before we need to turn back.”

Kevin glances down at their connected parts—Archie’s tanned skin and Kevin’s paler shade—and has to wait for his mouth to begin working again. “Yeah,” he replies. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They go deeper into the forest, walking shoulder to shoulder until it’s time to turn around.

 

* * *

 

The sensation of someone standing over him pulls Kevin from sleep.

At first, it’s the darkened outline of a person against the blacks of his eyelids followed by a hand reaching for his shoulder. Kevin opens his eyes before they have the chance to shake him awake and squints into the night to find Archie looming over him. Pushing himself up with his elbows, he goes to turn on the bedside lamp. Light fills the floor as quickly as Kevin flicks the switch, causing him and Archie to wince. Kevin scrubs a hand over his face and asks in a sleep-filled, rough voice, “Everything okay?”

“Nightmares,” Archie explains, sounding defeated as he shifts from one foot to the other. He lifts his head, revealing the hopeful glint in his dark eyes. “Can I sleep in here?”

Kevin stares at him for a moment, wondering if he heard correctly. “Sleep in here? In my bed?” he replies.

“Yeah. I can take the other side like last time,” Archie says, gesturing to the empty space where the pillows are still smooth and not indented with someone’s head.

 _Like last time_ —when Kevin meant to sleep on the couch before he and Archie stayed up for the better part of the night reminiscing. When he woke up to Archie’s face and traced every curve with his eyes, thinking how unfair it was that Archie was so incredibly gorgeous _and_ straight.

Archie clears his throat as he bounces on his heels. “Is it okay?” he asks nervously.

“Sure,” Kevin says. He reaches over to pull down the quilt and other blankets. “Make yourself at home.”

He waits for Archie to get in bed and comfortable before turning off the lamp. Darkness and silence fall over them, thick and heavy as they lie next to each other. Kevin hears Archie’s breathing and the rustling of sheets when he moves, but he’s not asleep. Neither of them is.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kevin asks as his fingers clutch the quilt.

The mattress shifts as Archie rolls onto his side; Kevin thinks he might have rolled away so he won’t have to answer him. “I dreamt I was back at Leopold and Loeb,” Archie intones.

“Oh,” Kevin says, unable to say anything else because what can he? There are no words that will be able to take back what was done to Archie. “Were you…”

“I was playing football in the yard with the others. They let us do that in the beginning—shoot some hoops, lift weights, go to the music room if we wanted,” Archie continues. He moves closer to Kevin until Kevin feels his breath floating over his fingers. “Almost like being at Riverdale except with armed guards and barbed wire fences, you know?”

Kevin nods. “It sounds a bit like Southside High,” he adds.

“I would take Southside High over Leopold and Loeb any day,” the other boy quietly declares. He seems to curl into himself before continuing. “I was about to score a point for my team when I dropped the ball. I expected the other guys to start shouting and talking shit, but when I turned around, everyone was gone. Like they disappeared into thin air except _him_.”

Him being Hiram Lodge. Archie never calls him by name and flinches away if Kevin does by accident. Hiram’s become the man in black, the bump in the night that haunts Archie’s subconscious and unleashes harrowing nightmares.

“What did he do?” Kevin asks, turning to face Archie. He makes out the hills and valleys of his sleep-messy hair.

Archie shudders. “He watched me when one of those men…” his voice trails off with a hoarse crack. “I remember being held down while he sat in the corner with this smile on his face; he was all I could see and feel. This man who took _everything_ from me and wasn’t even satisfied.” He swallows back a sob. “When it was over, he came over to him and whispered in my ear, ‘This is only the beginning.’”

Anger flares in Kevin’s stomach as he reaches for Archie’s elbow and gives it a comforting squeeze. “He can’t hurt you here; none of those people can. I won’t let them!”

“You won’t let them,” Archie repeats.

Kevin nods. “I promise I won’t let Hiram Lodge or his people hurt you again,” he vows. “Even if I have to fortify this entire cabin with a moat…” He hears Archie’s teary chuckle and smiles. “…and homemade cannons. Maybe a flamethrower in a doorway or glue on the front steps.”

Archie laughs harder, his entire body shaking from it. “Like in _Home Alone_ ,” he manages to say.

“Exactly! If an eight-year-old can fend off two criminals, I can easily keep Hiram Lodge from getting inside of this cabin,” Kevin announces as laughter bleeds into his voice.

The idea of some Rube Goldberg contraption to fend off the bad guys is as hilarious as it is ridiculous. Talk of it lightens Archie’s mood considerably; so much so that when they fall asleep, Kevin likes to think his friend isn’t dwelling on the nightmares that woke him.

 

* * *

 

Why Kevin thought Archie would sleep in his own room seems silly in retrospect.

Then again, why he expected it seems even sillier.

As Kevin pulls back the quilt and sheets so he can slide under them, he hears the floor creaking from the doorway. When he turns, he finds Archie standing in the threshold with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and an expectant look on his face. They stare at each other, neither making the first move, as a heavy silence forms over them.

“Everything okay?” Kevin asks after a while. He clutches the quilt’s edge, white knuckling the fabric as he waits for Archie’s reply.

Nodding, Archie bounces on his heels like he’s trying to rid himself of excess energy. “Could I sleep in here?”

Kevin blinks because, well frankly, he wasn’t expecting _that_. He thought Archie would want more blankets since it’s starting to get colder as fall begins giving way to winter. Maybe his friend talking him into sharing whiskey while they talk about whatever comes to mind. Even Archie coming to say goodnight makes more sense than asking to share a bed.

“You want to sleep with me?” Kevin says. He notices Archie raising one of his eyebrows while he tries to keep his mouth from twitching.

Then Kevin—Kevin Keller, the expert of mouth-in-foot syndrome—realizes what he just said. Heat flares up from his chest to his scalp. “That’s not what I meant,” he manages to add, flustered beyond—seriously, _beyond_ —comprehension and wonders how is this his life. God, he’ll never live this down! It’ll be the epitaph on his gravestone: Kevin Keller, moron.

“Not your type?” Archie teases. He grins that unfairly adorable lopsided grin; it lights up his face especially when he laughs.

Kevin drops the quilt. “What? No! You are _definitely_ my type,” he squawks before snapping his mouth shut because _what the fuck is wrong with him_?

Archie laughs as he crosses his arms over his chest and watches Kevin make a complete asshole of himself. It’s so embarrassing that Kevin wishes a sinkhole would appear and swallow him whole so he can avoid saying more idiotic things. Despite growing out his baby fat and teenage acne, Kevin is really just an awkward kid with no filter. Honestly, he’s glad it’s just him and Archie—if Cheryl Blossom saw this mess, it would be all over Riverdale High before the end of first period.

“You want to sleep in here?” Kevin repeats.

His friend nods. “If it’s alright with you.”

“It is, but why?”

Archie shrugs as his amused expression fades to seriousness—and, perhaps, a little hesitation. “I don’t have nightmares when you’re around,” he whispers.

The implication of his answer gives Kevin pause. For all the times he told Betty that he wasn’t the right person to get Archie to open up—that the idea of it was a lost cause because he was Betty _or_ Jughead—he _actually_ managed to do it without realizing he had. Kevin opens his mouth to say something, but the words don’t come out. His jaw shuts while Archie begins tugging on the hem of his t-shirt, wrapping and unwrapping the fabric around fingers.

“Oh,” Kevin finally says. “Well then…be my guest,” he adds, gesturing to the unmade bed.

Neither of them speaks as they make themselves comfortable on either side of the mattress. Kevin goes to turn off the bedside lamp when he hears Archie say, “Goodnight Kev.”

“Night Archie,” he replies before flicking off the lamp and covering them in darkness.

When he wakes up the following morning, it’s to Archie’s still sleeping face bathed in sunlight and realizes just how _fucked_ he truly is.

 

* * *

 

Strange how one can settle into a routine so quickly.

It’s even stranger how much it can become second nature; almost like breathing.

That’s what sharing a bed with Archie becomes.

He isn’t even surprised when Archie comes to his room at night—his sweatpants slug low on his hips and red hair mussed up from a shower—and peels back the blankets. Kevin doesn’t blink when Archie gets in alongside him but shares a laugh as his friend’s too-cold feet touch his own. There are times they talk in the dark and others when they fall asleep in silence.

One thing Kevin will never be used to is seeing Archie when he wakes, completely at ease and uninhibited as he sprawls next to him. Every iota in his body aches to touch his friend; trace over the sharp edges where Archie’s joints meet and the soft curves that make up the rest of him. Run his fingers through Archie’s red hair, feel its texture against his palm.

Doing so, however, would make things _incredibly_ awkward.

So he looks; _only_ looks.

Until one morning Kevin wakes with Archie glommed to him, his leg shoved between both of Kevin’s own and one muscled arm slung over his waist. It doesn’t dawn on him for the first few moments he blinks his bedroom into view that he’s being cuddled, for lack of a better word. And there’s an insistent erection pressing into his lower back.

Then he becomes alert in a second, freezing under Archie’s limbs while his friend’s hot breath curls against his neck. This is too real to be a dream—he already knows that—and so unnerving that Kevin can’t bring himself to move. It’s like his entire body has locked up and he only has his rushing thoughts, which buzz around his mind at lightspeed. Panic is a word Kevin thinks of; weird being another.

He wants to close his eyes and lean into the embrace, pretending it’s real; that Archie’s really _his_. But he’s not and Kevin knows that.

Archie moves behind him, nuzzling his cheek against Kevin’s back and pulling him closer. Kevin holds his breath as Archie’s arm tightens around his waist and mumbles incoherently into Kevin’s t-shirt. This scene—this situation, even—is straight out of a screwball comedy.

“Uh, Arch,” Kevin manages to say as he tries to wiggle his way out of Archie’s embrace. He peers over his shoulder. “Archie?”

His friend groans in reply.

“Hey. Okay,” Kevin rambles. “I was wondering if you could…” He lets out a muffled shriek when Archie practically climbs on top of him. The heat of his friend’s body sinks into his own, causing his skin to pimple with goosebumps while his cock begins to stir in interest. Which is bad; so _very bad_! “So, uh, did you do this to Veronica because, I gotta tell you, Archie, that’s a tight grip you got there.”

Archie groans again. “Huh?” His grasp on Kevin loosens as he becomes more awake. “Oh,” he whispers, pulling back to give Kevin room to move. With the morning light as bright as it is, they look like amber; no, cinnamon. Expressive and haunting, the sunlit irises hold the depth and heaviness of being imprisoned and forced to do things Archie never thought he’d do.

Which he does, but only slightly. Kevin uses his recovered mobility to roll over and finds himself a few scant millimeters away from his friend. In the gray light, the freckles over the bridge of Archie’s nose appear more prominent. They’re sprinkled all over Archie’s face, down the column of his throat, and disappear tantalizingly under his t-shirt.

Kevin’s stare travels to the scar between the other boy’s eyebrows, remembering Dilton Doiley’s tenth birthday party where the boys played hide and seek in the woods. Archie had tripped over a tree root poking through the soil and fell, hitting his head on a rock. Kevin had been climbing a tree when he heard Archie’s shriek of pain and jumped down almost immediately before breaking into a run. By the time he found Archie, Jughead was already by their friend’s side, pressing the ripped-off sleeve of his plaid overshirt to the bleeding gash. There had been so much blood—on the ground, down the front of Archie’s face and his Superman t-shirt, tacky in his hair—making it look like a murder scene.

Archie rejoined them the next day to ride their bicycles around Kevin’s block, proudly boasting his stitches and bruised up face.

Something compels him to touch and feel the uneven texture and trace its shape. “I remember when this happened,” Kevin says quietly. He rubs his index finger over the scar.

Archie licks his lips before speaking. “Hide and seek at Dilton Doiley’s birthday party,” he intones, his eyes never leaving Kevin’s.

Kevin forces himself not to look at Archie’s mouth as he nods. It proves to be difficult; all he can think about is feeling his friend’s plush lips against his own. “Fucking Dilton,” he grouses.

“Yeah,” Archie agrees as he gravitates to Kevin until their chests touch with each inhale. “Complete moron,” he adds in a low voice that sends shivers down Kevin’s spine.

Kevin knows that tone; he’s heard it from Moose on more than one occasion. He knows what it means and what it implicates. He just never thought he would hear something like it from Archie; the realization makes him gulp. “Don’t speak ill of the dead, Archie Andrews,” Kevin warns in mock sternness.

There’s a beat then Archie’s pulling him into a heated kiss, practically knocking Kevin on his back. He hears the other boy growl against his mouth, lips vibrating so fiercely that Kevin feels it all the way to his ribs. Once the initial shock wears off, Kevin returns Archie’s enthusiasm with fervor. Together, with their trembling hands, they begin tugging at their clothes.

His shirt falls victim to Archie’s hands which caress him once his bare torso is accessible. Kevin groans at the first touch as it fills him with desire. It grows fiery and desperate as Archie runs his fingers over Kevin’s skin, tracing an invisible trail from his neck to the waistband on his underwear, doing so with care and curiosity. Kevin nips Archie’s bottom lip as the sensation of a calloused thumb rubbing his nipple into a hard point goes straight to his groin.

Unable to help himself, Kevin arches into Archie’s touch as his thumb dances to his other nipple. A moan escapes through his lips and into Archie’s mouth as the sweet, intoxicating taste of him floods Kevin’s senses. He wants more; so much more.

Skating his hands down the length of his friend’s back, Kevin finds the hem of Archie’s t-shirt. Grabbing the soft fabric, he begins inching it over Archie’s warm skin. Kissing, touching, exploring—Kevin doesn’t know how long they do this nor does he care.

They laugh when Archie’s arm gets tangled in his shirt while Kevin helps him out of his clothes and throws off then item off the bed. Kevin looks up to the beautiful boy straddling his hips and finds an image he’s going to remember for the rest of his life—sparkling brown eyes, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and a sizable erection tenting under his sweatpants with a telltale spot of precum.

He doesn’t look nervous or apprehensive; he’s turned on. Archie _wants_ this as much as Kevin does and more importantly, he wants _Kevin_ which blows his damn mind.

Kevin mouths a trail down Archie’s throat because he’s going to worship every inch of Archie Andrews. Every inch that Archie allows, Kevin will commit it to memory. He wants Archie to feel desired, consumed and devoured as he continues to lick and nibble his way down his friend’s body. With his tongue, Kevin traces each muscle to learn their shape and texture until he’s practically drunk on them. He continues his exploration until he comes upon the small, dark hairs leading from Archie’s navel and under the waistband of his sweatpants.

His eyes flicker to Archie’s face, searching it for how his friend wants Kevin to proceed. Will they drop over the edge or merely skirt near it before falling back? It’s a fair question after all that Archie’s been through. He’s the one who’s been abused—not Kevin—and he should set the pace.

Archie reaches for him and it’s all the answer that Kevin needs. Together, they make short work of their remaining clothes, pushing them under the blankets towards the foot of the bed. They’re one step closer to complete surrender; Kevin tastes their desperation with each kiss. Archie looks beautiful like this, so utterly beautiful that it leaves Kevin breathless.

Archie’s hand slides down the length of his torso and even further where Kevin’s own erection lies hard and throbbing against his pelvis. He hears Archie’s surprised gasp as his fingers become slick with precum and all Kevin can think is _more! Please, fuck, more!_ Taking Archie in his fist, Kevin begins to familiarize himself with the velvety, uncut length of him. He runs his thumb over the wet foreskin and the engorged cockhead still hidden within its bloom before stroking him. Archie’s whine travels through Kevin as does the one after it. He goes down to the base of Archie’s cock where a thicket of dark hair grows, then back up again to twist over the head. Kevin grins in delight as Archie thrusts his hips with a muffled whine.

Kevin greedily plunders Archie’s mouth with his tongue, flicking at his lips until they part and he’s able to slip inside the hot cavern for more, obliterating every rational thought Kevin has. For the first time in ages, all he could think about was sensation—touching, _being_ touched—and being wanted. His worries for Archie’s comfort fade as the other boy’s hand begins stroking his cock. Hooking a leg over Archie’s hip, Kevin shares a groan with him as their cockheads rub against each other. As Archie runs his teeth over Kevin’s jaw, Kevin glances at their lengths to appreciate how they line up in perfection, how good they look, how good they are together. It’s enough to nearly send him over the edge.

They work each other until Kevin’s body throbs with overwhelming arousal, until he’s shaking with need, until he nearly shatters into a thousand pieces.

“Not like this,” Archie gasps against his cheek, hot breath dragging over Kevin’s sensitive skin. He turns Kevin’s face towards his, revealing large black pupils with the thinnest ring of brown at the edges. “Can I?” he asks, sounding as desperate as Kevin feels.

In retrospect, Kevin should be stunned by what his friend is asking—what Archie’s practically begging for—because he’s had shit luck with relationships. He thinks of the what-ifs that haunted his relationship with Joaquin, the series of almosts and maybes with Moose, the illicit encounters in Fox Forest, and now _this_.

“I want to, Kev,” Archie murmurs. “Can I?”

He has Archie literally begging to sleep with him—a guy he’s wanted since Archie asked him to help with wrestling moves…probably before that, honestly—and Kevin knows there’s only one answer. “God, yes,” Kevin says, nodding frantically.

They scramble across the mattress so Kevin can grab the bottle of lube he keeps in the bedside table between kisses that make his head spin. Archie doesn’t just kiss; he puts everything he has into them. Having his lips pressed against Kevin’s feels like being devoured. The word debauched comes to mind, but Kevin doesn’t have much time to think about as his body grows hot from Archie’s attention.

Kevin manages to get the top drawer open despite Archie rutting against him lazily while they explore each other’s mouths. He realizes as he opens the bottle and pours lube onto his fingers that they are lacking in condoms which isn’t his fault. Kevin never expected to get laid while he and Archie hid in the woods; jack off in the shower or quietly in his bed—yes. Sex with an incredibly gorgeous guy who he previously thought was straight—no.

God, that voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Betty begins lecturing him on being responsible, but clearly said voice doesn’t have Archie licking and sucking his way back down their body. So that voice can shut the hell up for once and allow Kevin to enjoy himself. The sharp edges of teeth thrust Kevin from the argument he’s having with himself as Archie finds that spot on his neck that makes Kevin moan and tremble uncontrollably.

Lifting his hips as he reaches behind himself, Kevin wets the tight bud of his hole while Archie sucks a bruise on his hip. As a fingertip sinks inside, he moans; all he thinks about is the hot, rough texture of Archie’s tongue and he doesn’t want to cum right then. He works the ring of muscle until his first knuckle is all but sucked in as his body accommodates the intrusion and he sighs at the stretch and burn spreading from his groin, the feeling of being full. He twists a few more times before adding another slick finger.

Preparing himself doesn’t take as much time as it would have if he hadn’t spent hours in vain practicing for when he and Moose finally slept together. In retrospect, Moose probably would have bolted at the first sign of lube and condom…

It doesn’t matter now. Not when he has Archie between his thighs, face hidden as his tongue traces nonsensical lines on his stomach while Kevin adds another finger into his hole. He sucks in a breath as he finds his prostate and more precum spills onto his skin. “Archie,” Kevin rasps, voice breaking.

Archie looks up, lips cherry red and swollen and eyes filled with wonder. “Yeah?”

“Now,” he begs, not caring that he’s _actually_ begging. “Please…”

Together they fumble with the lube and laugh into each other’s mouths as they slick up Archie’s cock. Kevin rolls on top of Archie, straddling his hips as he gazes at him, both of them breathing hard. He swallows as he reaches himself to grip Archie’s erection and hold it steady as he lines it up with his hole. Millions of thoughts rush through Kevin’s head as the first press of Archie fills Kevin with pain and the discomfort of being full despite his careful preparation. It doesn’t dissuade his eagerness as he eases himself down; actually, it only makes Kevin’s need only more palpable.

He delights in Archie’s hoarse moan as his cock slips inside. “Fuck,” Archie bites off as he digs his blunt fingernails into Kevin’s hips. He thrusts up, embedding himself a bit further and dislodging a gasp from Kevin, then stops. A look of panic washes over his face. “Did I?”

“No,” Kevin manages to say, shaking his head. “Keep doing that,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Archie whispers back, surging forward to meet Kevin’s movements.

They hold onto each other, moving slowly until Archie’s buried to the hilt and Kevin’s tight heat contracts around him, adjusting to being penetrated by something larger than fingers or the dildo he keeps hidden under his mattress. It’s _amazing_.

He begins rocking his hips, rising and falling on Archie’s cock while Archie lies under him, watching with wide eyes. Shifting, Kevin finds his prostate and throws his head with a moan as a result. “Fuck!” he cries out, grinding down to do it again. “Archie… _move_!”

Archie does. He meets Kevin’s thrusts, moving against him as their moans fill the room. The sting of his friend’s fingernails being buried in his hips only adds to Kevin’s pleasure especially when Archie’s cock stabs his prostate with each pass. Kevin rocks faster, wordlessly encouraging Archie to do the same as his orgasm builds; he can practically taste it through the sweat that’s made it into his mouth.

It teeters shamelessly until Archie slams into him _just right_ and Kevin shouts, spurting, untouched, between their bodies that drips down his cock and smears Archie’s stomach. The world tilts on its axis as Archie flips their positions as he pins Kevin onto the mattress and pounds into him. Burying his fingers in Archie’s damp hair, Kevin meets his thrusts despite the pleasure-pain stemming from his orgasm.

Then again it’s completely worth hearing Archie grinding out low, wordless cries of anticipation against his sweaty collarbone.

Archie holds him closer as a strangled cry falls from his lips and thrusts deep as his cum floods Kevin’s passage. Trembling and whimpering into Kevin’s shoulder, Archie empties himself before slumping down on his elbows. “Wow,” he says, breathlessly.

He doesn’t allow Kevin to respond as he draws Kevin into a kiss that makes him forget what he was going to say.

 

* * *

 

They spend the day in bed.

Well…kind of.

Kevin thinks about the thick drag of Archie’s cock and hot water raining down on them as he braced himself against the cool shower wall. There’s his lover’s achingly slow thrusts and Archie’s hands possessively clutching his hips as he takes him from behind. Archie whispers in Kevin’s ear to spread his legs just a bit more— _yes, like that, Kev_ —over the sound of Kevin wordlessly sobbing for him to stop with this nonsense and _fucking fuck him hard already_!

Which he does right when Kevin’s desperate and trembling with need. Archie snaps his hips in the most perfect, toe-curling way and does it again and again and keeps going until Kevin’s cum splatters on the tiles before being washed away and he’s slumped against the wall. Archie winds his fingers through Kevin’s wet hair and coaxes Kevin’s face towards his to capture his mouth in a heated kiss. Dazed, Kevin becomes a half-makeout partner while Archie chases his own release.

There’s the other time where Kevin demonstrates the benefits of a blowjob as the best way to wake-up after a post-coital nap and murmured encouragingly to Archie as he returns the favor with a hand gently clasped around his crown. And the time after that while they cook lunch and end up making out against the kitchen counter which leads to them to the bedroom and hand jobs.

Now they’re back in bed; Archie dozes on his side with his hand splayed over Kevin’s bare stomach while Kevin stares up at the ceiling as the day slowly turns to evening, mind buzzing far too much for him to sleep. He wishes he could call Betty or Josie—even Cheryl would do in a pinch—to tell them that he finally lost his virginity, even if to who might take some convincing. As Kevin tucks his arm under his head, he lets out a sigh and whispers, “Part of me thought this was never going to happen.”

“Hm?” Archie mumbles sleepily. He stretches like a cat as he draws his fingernails over Kevin’s skin. “What’s wrong?”

Kevin turns to him, watching as Archie’s eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones before they open and wondering how he got to this place. “Nothing’s wrong,” he assures.

“Uh huh,” Archie says, doubtfully. Wrinkling his nose, he pulls Kevin to him. “I heard you say something about how you thought this was never going to happen.”

He swallows; this is probably not the time to tell Archie that not only was it his first time having sex with a guy, but also Kevin’s. Well, having sex with _anyone_ period besides his own hand and a bottle of KY. “This,” he carefully replies.

“Between us?” Archie’s hand drifts over Kevin’s side. “Was it really _that_ unexpected?” he asks with a grin.

“Yes!” Kevin exclaims, surprised at Archie’s blasé reaction. “Until a few days ago, I thought you were maybe— _just maybe_ —a one on the Kinsey Scale. I mean, I’ll admit that I fantasized…”

Archie raises an eyebrow. “Of my seventies pornstar physique?”

Kevin’s cheeks begin to burn. “B-b-Betty told you I said that?” he stutters, remembering as he vented to Betty about Archie, Archie’s body, and his lack of wrestling know-how in the _Blue and Gold_ offices. Kevin becomes so caught up in planning every painful way he can murder Betty and hide the body that he misses Archie’s low chuckle as he leans in to kiss Kevin.

Then his mind goes blank and all he can think about is the press of Archie’s lips against his own and the taste of him on his tongue. He buries his hands in Archie’s hair as he delves deeper into the hot cavern of his lover’s mouth. Archie wraps his arms around Kevin, drawing him closer until they’re tangled up in each other.

Eventually, they part to breathe, but, really, who’s Kevin’s kidding? They’re both red-faced and panting with puffy kiss-bitten lips.

Grinning delightedly, Archie brushes hair from Kevin’s eyes. “Jughead,” he says.

“What about him?” Kevin asks, confused. It’s a weird time to bring up one’s best friend during foreplay.

Chuckling, Archie presses his mouth to Kevin’s throat. “He’s the one who told me.”

Thinking back on his interrupted conversation, it had been Jughead who burst into the Blue and Gold offices with some emergency. One moment Kevin was venting to Betty and the next, they were rushing out of the room, Betty’s iconic ponytail swinging with her hurried footsteps and Jughead’s knit cap somehow magically staying on his head. “He heard _that_?” he shrieks, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh come on, Kev!” Archie gently pushes Kevin’s hands away and tilts his chin so they look at each other. He’s still grinning. “It was flattering.”

Kevin groans and rolls his eyes.

“It was!” Archie insists, laughing. His hand slides down to Kevin’s bicep, rubbing it soothingly until Kevin can feel the burning his cheeks lessen. “Can I tell you something?” Archie asks him after a while.

He shakes his head. “Is it more things that Jughead overheard me saying about you?” Kevin grumbles as Archie’s lips brush against his shoulder.

“Nah, nothing like that,” the other boy promises. “Do you remember when you helped me learn those wrestling moves for tryouts?”

Kevin tilts in his head. “What about it?” Before he has time to wonder about it, he finds himself on his back, wrists pinned to the mattress by Archie’s hands. The hold isn’t very strong, allowing for movement should he decide to, well, move.

“You have no idea how much I wanted you,” Archie confesses into his skin. “Every time we would…I wanted to pin you down and just…”

“Have me?” Kevin supplies helpfully, unable to keep the grin off his face because it’s not every day that Archie gets flustered. “How very bodice ripper of you, Archie Andrews.”

Archie makes a face at him. “Can’t be a bodice ripper if you’re not wearing any clothes,” he points out.

Kevin looks down the length of their naked bodies and shrugs in agreement. “There was that one episode of _Outlander_ …” he begins to say before greedy fingers slide the dusty cleft of his ass.

“Talking is overrated. Wouldn’t you agree?” Archie asks with heat in his voice as his fingers press enticingly against Kevin’s hole.

He arches into the bluntness of them and wholeheartedly does.

 

* * *

 

As the weeks go by, he and Archie fuck.

A lot.

A lot, a lot. A (possibly) alarming amount, but does Kevin care? Does Archie?

Nope. As luck would have it, neither of them do.

They utilize every hard and soft surface inside the cabin to explore each other’s bodies. Kevin thinks he’ll never be able to look at the kitchen counters and loft the same way ever again.

Even the rusted truck sees some action. They park on a secluded dirt road several miles from the cabin and fuck inside the cab while rain patters on the roof. There Kevin discovers that nibbling behind Archie’s ear makes him moan and grasp the material of his t-shirt.

And honestly, he can’t speak for Archie when he says he’s made it a point to memorize every bit of what makes his lover tick but he enjoys it.

Probably more than he should.

 

* * *

 

“A mistress?” Betty asks with a strange expression on her face.

Honestly, Betty’s lack of enthusiasm about this news is a bit disappointing but Kevin digresses. “That or a very good cover for whatever illegal activities Hiram Lodge has up his bespoke sleeves.”

“Huh,” she says in uncharacteristically monosyllable way. It’s not like Betty to be at a loss for words, especially when it involves their arch nemesis of the week. Or year, really. She purses her lips together as her eyes flick from the camera lens to the super secret notebook she’s been writing in.

He blinks. “Huh? Betty Cooper, I give us the first big break _in weeks_ and all you say is _huh_!” Kevin hisses haughtily while Archie’s snort of laughter reaches his ears. He turns in his seat, pointing an accusatory finger as he adds, “You! Keep making dinner.” Neither Kevin or Betty miss their friend’s chortle. “Anyways, you’re looking at very discreet financial transactions between adult Damien from _The Omen_ and his mistress, Mrs. Baylock.”

Betty groans in exasperation. “ _Kev,_ ” she says sharply.

 _Such a killjoy,_ Kevin thinks to himself before saying, “Fine; her name is Mrs. Mulwray.” He flips through his written notes. “I haven’t been able to find her first name, but it might be an alias. Their business transactions began in late May—around the time Archie was…” Kevin stops short of saying the word arrested. “He’s been making monthly payments of fifteen thousand dollars.”

“For what, I wonder,” Betty muses aloud.

“For sex,” Archie calls over Kevin’s shoulder. He’s standing over the stove as he stirs a ladle in the sauce pot when Kevin turns around. Even Betty’s staring at him. “What?” he asks innocently. “Why else would he be paying her?”

Betty is shaking her head when Kevin looks at her. “Is it possible that we’re approaching this at the wrong angle?” Kevin asks. “Maybe she’s a business associate?”

“Having her pose as a mistress is a good way to launder money while no one bats an eye,” Betty replies. She leans against her bed’s headboard and frowns in disgust. “What a predictable trope! The rich businessman having an affair when he’s actually using it as a cover.”

Kevin nods in agreement. “Too bad Sheriff Minetta is in the Lodges’ gold-lined pockets.”

“Uh, about that,” Betty begins to explain, shifting uncomfortably. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Kevin lunges at the laptop’s camera while the sounds of Archie dropping the ladle fill clatters behind him. “What happened?”

“Did he quit?” Archie asks as he rushes over, nearly knocking Kevin out of his seat as they try to squeeze together in front of the laptop.

Betty shakes her head. “No. But something else…”

“Is my dad the sheriff again?” Kevin asks as he scoots over to make room for Archie.

“No!” Betty rubs her temples. “He’s dead,” she tells them.

He feels his jaw fall open in total shock before Kevin is able to comprehend what Betty’s saying. “Dead?” he hears Archie asking. “How?”

“All I know is that his body was found in a cabin,” Betty answers quietly. She peeks over her shoulder before leaning closer to the camera. “Jughead’s down at the morgue to see if he can find out more, but someone is covering up loose ends.”

Kevin turns to Archie, noticing the hard line of his jaw as he clenches his teeth. “You mean Hiram Lodge.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” A frown on Archie’s face appears. “Betty, it’s him. We know it is!”

Betty doesn’t say anything which, in Kevin’s opinion, is probably for the best. She hasn’t seen Archie through the worst of his trauma or dealt with sleepless nights thanks to nightmares and insomnia. Then again, Kevin knows she’s only being cautious since this unraveling mystery has left them with more questions than answers.

But one thing’s for certain: Hiram Lodge covers his tracks well.

Just not well enough for two dogged teenagers.

“Maybe you could look into this Mrs. Mulwray,” Kevin suggests to break up the awkward silence. “Find out who she is, how she’s really connected to our man in black…”

“And how it connects to our boy wonder,” Betty says, offering Archie a smile. “We _will_ clear your name, Arch. It might take some time, but Juggy, Kev, and I will get to the bottom of this and make Hiram Lodge pay for what he did to you.”

Kevin isn’t sure that Betty can hear Archie’s audible gulp, but he can. He also sees Archie’s white-knuckled fists partially hidden under the table and how they tremble. He wants to reach for them though he isn’t sure if he can with Betty looking on. Kevin and Archie haven’t discussed the latest developments in their relationship and whether or not Archie wants the world to know about it.

Honestly, the most they’ve addressed is taking each others’ clothes off and fucking all over the cabin. And that one time on the way back from—a few days before it began snowing—a hike where they ended up dry humping against a tree.

“I need to finish making dinner,” Archie announces as he stands up. He doesn’t spare Betty or Kevin another glance as he stalks off to the stove.

“Arch,” Betty calls after him in a tone that Kevin recognizes as her knowing she overstepped despite her best intentions. She’s used it on him countless times. “I messed up, didn’t I?” she intones.

Kevin shakes his head. “Hiram Lodge is a touchy subject.”

“I’ll check into this Mrs. Mulwray character and see what I come up with,” Betty says dejectedly. “One last question, though.”

Kevin nods. “Fire away, Ms. Cooper, intrepid reporter!”

“Why are you wearing Archie’s shirt?”

He tilts his head in confusion before looking down at himself; covering his torso is an unremarkable gray t-shirt with faded blue letters reading _Riverdale Football_. He’s not on the football team, but Archie is. Kevin’s cheeks begin burning and, god, he hopes it doesn’t show on camera. With his luck, it probably does. “Laundry day,” he manages to reply without stammering.

Judging by the look on Betty’s face, she doesn’t buy it. “Right.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says. “Well, dinner is almost ready. I gotta go!” He ends their call before Betty can ask him more questions or figure out what’s going on. He’s already imagining her ripping into him about taking advantage of Archie (which Kevin didn’t) or reminding him that Archie is straight (which Archie _clearly_ isn’t). Heart in his throat, Kevin closes the laptop with a groan. “Why does she notice _every little thing_?” he asks to no one in particular. “I mean _everything_!”

Archie grunts behind him. “Because she’s nosy.”

“It’s like she has laser vision,” Kevin continues without hearing Archie. He turns around, baffled at her noticing the t-shirt he’s wearing because, _really_ , what is that? “She’s like Riverdale’s own Nancy Drew, but not the Emma Roberts version.”

A plate with pasta is placed in front of him, but Kevin’s more aware of Archie standing next to him. “What does that make you then?”

“Obviously one of the Hardy Boys; Parker Stevenson,” he answers as Archie drapes his arm over Kevin’s shoulders. He relaxes into the touch. “I don’t have Shaun Cassidy’s wholesome blond looks.”

Archie leans down, catching Kevin’s earlobe between his teeth. His tongue flicks over the sensitive flesh before letting it go. “You’re much better looking,” he whispers to him.

“Is that so?” Kevin replies, his interest piqued.

One of Archie’s hands brushes against his chest, fingertips scrapes over his nipples and down towards the t-shirt’s hemline, then further. The button to his jeans loosens as Archie undoes it followed by the soft _tick, tick, tick_ of the zipper parting under his lover’s fingers. Archie tugs at his waist, silently urging Kevin to lift his hips while his mouth nips Kevin’s throat. Kevin groans at the sensation of Archie touching him as he sinks to his knees—dipping his tongue under his collar, open mouth kisses on his sternum, lifting his t-shirt to lick at his stomach—and pulls Kevin’s jeans down his legs and off his body. Archie throws them towards the living room in a crumpled heap.

“No underwear?” he asks, raising a curious brow. He grasps Kevin’s half-hard dick and gives it a teasing tug.

Kevin lets out a strangled gasp. “Didn’t think I needed them.”

Archie chuckles, his breath drifting over Kevin’s pubic hair. “Presumptuous.”

Then he licks a stripe up Kevin’s shaft.

Kevin’s hand flies to the table, squeezing it until his knuckles turn bone-white as he braces himself. “Oh…god,” he manages to breathe as he watches Archie swallow him whole, then flick his cockhead with his tongue. The sight of Archie bobbing up and down on his cock…well—there aren’t adequate words to describe it.

Greedy, definitely. Perfect, also a definite. Mesmerizing, _of fucking course_. Especially with how Archie keeps his glassy eyes locked on Kevin’s as he takes him as far down as he can and slowly slips back up before doing it all over again. Kevin’s positive he looks like a wreck; he feels like one, anyways, with how close he is to cumming down Archie’s throat.

Then Archie moans around him. Kevin feels the vibration through his entire body as he’s brought to the cusp of orgasm and can’t help crying out in reply. He doesn’t care if Archie feels him trembling under his hands or that he’s bucking his hips in anticipation. “Oh fuck,” he murmurs as Archie sucks in his cheeks and scrapes the underside of his cock with his teeth, shoving Kevin over the edge.

With a sharp cry, he paints Archie’s tongue with his release and becomes lost in Archie swallowing around him, caressing his calves, and pressing his mouth against Kevin’s inner thigh before looking at him. He has that glint in his eyes—the heated one that only several people have seen and _Kevin is one of them_ —as he licks his puffy lips. Archie grins as he says in a husky voice, “Come to bed.”

“But dinner—” Kevin argues weakly.

Archie pulls Kevin to his feet and into his arms, kissing him filthily. Kevin tastes the saltiness of himself on his lover’s tongue and knows the only answer he’ll have is yes when Archie whispers, “Dinner can wait.”

They stumble through the cabin, kissing and undressing each other until they fall on the bed, naked and aroused. Kevin licks the freckles on Archie’s shoulders and traces a path with his tongue while Archie fingers him open. Sinking his teeth into Archie’s skin, Kevin groans against his collarbone from the burn and stretch.

“Fuck, Kev,” Archie whispers, awed. He lifts his gaze from his two fingers buried in Kevin’s hole to stare at him, wide-eyed and utterly amazed. “You look so good like this.”

Kevin blushes at the compliment; he thinks he looks like a mess. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” his lover assures as he flexes his fingers over Kevin’s prostate.

Kevin jumps at the sudden jolt coursing through his body. If Archie keeps this up, Kevin thinks his cock will be hard again in no time. “Archie,” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut as Kevin dips his head back against the pillows. He grasps Archie’s shoulders and squeezes. “Don’t stop…please don’t stop!”

“Never,” Archie promises. He nips crease between Kevin’s thigh and pelvis. “Never, Kev.”

Kevin feels like his body might burn up from the inside out if Archie doesn’t get in him soon. “Fuck,” he moans as he twists the sheets with his fingers, thrashing his head from side to side. “Please!”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” his lover tells as he twists his fingers.

While Archie’s cock isn’t horse-like, he’s still generously endowed and something Kevin can handle since they’ve been fucking constantly, multiple times a day. “Archie,” Kevin says, pleadingly. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” Archie whispers. He withdraws his fingers, leaving Kevin empty and wanting as he uncaps the bottle of lube and pours it into his palm. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he says as he slicks up his cock.

Kevin pulls him closer to nibble on Archie’s bottom lip. “Likewise,” he tells him.

It earns a chuckle as Archie wraps Kevin’s legs around his waist and rubs his cock at Kevin’s entrance. He pulls into him, sinking like a slow break wave. The initial pressure takes Kevin’s breath away—it always does—until it melts into the overwhelming sensation of being full.

“Okay?” Archie asks in a strangled voice. He hovers over Kevin on trembling arms, sweat beading on his temples and dampening the tips of his red hair. Archie reminds him of the sun and Kevin is Icarus, flying too close until…

He’s falling.

Falling for Archie Andrews, a boy brought to him by circumstances. When this is over, they’ll go back to how they always were—Kevin on the fringes and Archie in the fray.

Kevin pulls Archie into a kiss to hide the tears stinging his eyes and falling down his cheeks when he closes them. He chases his second orgasm as Archie finds his first, welcoming Archie’s cry of pleasure into his mouth and his cum into his body and tries not to dwell on the thoughts in his head.

Because if he does, the knot forming in his stomach might fade enough so Kevin can enjoy being curled against Archie’s body with his head resting on Archie’s chest. As he listens to the steady _thump, thump, thump_ of the other boy’s heart while sweat dries on their overly warm skin, Kevin tries his hardest to relax into Archie’s fingers dancing over his spine.

Soon he and Betty will piece together the jagged edges of Hiram Lodge’s wrongdoings, allowing Archie to go home. And who knows how their relationship will be once they’re back in the Riverdale city limits. With his piss-poor luck, Kevin envisions Archie letting him down easy and returning to Veronica. Archie will move on while Kevin finds himself back where he started.

“We need to change the sheets,” Kevin says, breaking the fragile silence in the room. He hears the soft rumble of Archie chuckling in his ears and closes his eyes as he memorizes the sound. “And eat.”

Fingers card through his hair, ruffling the strands before smoothing them down and presses his lips to Kevin’s temple. “Later,” Archie tells him. “Can’t we just lie here together?”

Kevin is about to say _no_ when he feels Archie tighten his hold around his waist and his fingers resume their tap dance over his back.

The what-ifs eat away at him while Kevin lies in Archie’s embrace, and why shouldn’t they?

He’s from a town built on them, and you are where you come from—so the saying goes.

 

* * *

 

Betty goes dark despite Kevin’s numerous emails to see if she’s found anything.

If her silence is anything to go by, she hasn’t, though it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Kevin sits on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees while trying to find a connection between one Mrs. Mulwray (whose first name is still a mystery), Hiram Lodge, and a town with more abandoned buildings than people and regular shipments of ingredients used to make drugs because he knows there’s one lurking in the shadows.

He feels it in his very marrow.

Kevin recalls several classmates offering him Fizzle Rocks at a summertime party or two. They came in colorful packets much like Jingle Jangle’s pixie stick-like packaging, but clearly more potent if blown pupils were anything to go by.

If Kevin had to hazard a guess, Fizzle Rocks is a mixture of LSD and MDMA. He searches the internet for the drug’s ingredients and finally strikes gold. While most articles he comes across write about the addictiveness and how it’s affecting today’s impressionable youth, only one details what’s inside the innocent looking packets: lysergic acid and methylenedioxymethamphetamine.

“Pay dirt,” Kevin whispers as he writes it down in his notebook. In a few clicks, he opens up the flow chart he created since covering a wall with his research might trigger Archie’s bad memories. In the center is Hiram’s name in bold with lines going to other bubbles, including the three dead boys at Shadow Lake and Cassidy Bullock. Making another entry, he types _Fizzle Rocks_ before connecting it to the town of Evergreen. “Now,” Kevin says as his stare wavers between Hiram and Mrs. Mulwray. “What part do you both play in this?”

He goes back to the financial transactions and shifts through them for several more hours. At some point, Archie comes back from his run looking obscene in the t-shirt painted to his body with sweat and flushed cheeks as he heads to the bathroom for a shower. Kevin thinks Archie suggests joining him, but he’s in too deep in his research to pay much attention.

So much so that he doesn’t hear Archie calling his name until the other boy has his hand on Kevin’s shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge. “Hey,” he says when Kevin pries his eyes away from the laptop screen. He offers Kevin a grin as he shoves his hands in his front pockets and bounces on his heels. “Good read?”

“Just trying to connect the dots.” He turns to his laptop and frowns. “At least, attempting to,” he mutters as Archie sits next to him.

“That’s _a lot_ of dots,” Archie says, awed, as he looks at the laptop screen.

Kevin palms his face with a groan. “That’s Hiram Lodge for you. A bad man with a legion of bad people covering up his wrongdoings.” The comforting weight of Archie’s arm over his shoulder uncoils the frustration he feels. “I know Betty and I have made a lot of headway, but putting the pieces together is just…”

“Shitty?” Archie supplies. He begins scratching Kevin’s scalp with his fingernails.

He nods in agreement. “That’s one word for it. I keep running into the same three things: Evergreen, Mrs. Mulwray, and Hiram Lodge.”

Archie’s fingers stop. “Evergreen?”

“A town that’s barely on the map,” Kevin explains. “And I mean _barely_! Population: no one. I think Centralia, Pennsylvania has more people than this place.” He notices Archie’s confused expression and sighs. “There’s been a coal-mine fire burning underneath since the sixties. Used as inspiration for Silent Hill.”

Of course, mentioning a video game would jog Archie’s memory; it’s precious, really. “Gotcha,” Archie says. “So why do all the roads lead to Evergreen?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Kevin rolls his neck. “And why large shipments of lysergic acid and methylenedioxymethamphetamine are going there.”

Archie wrinkles his nose. “Drugs?”

“Not just any drug,” Kevin says as he turns to Archie. “Those, my red-haired friend, are the ingredients to make Fizzle Rocks.”

The revelation clearly means nothing to Archie and why should it? He was struggling to stay alive inside of Leopold and Loeb’s concrete walls while Fizzle Rocks became the new Jingle Jangle and Riverdale’s teenage masses began ingesting it.

“Maybe he owns the building where Fizzle Rocks is being manufactured?” Archie suggests. “The deed would be public record.”

“He would cover his tracks,” Kevin tells him as he rests his head on Archie’s shoulder. “Sly bastard.”

Archie chuckles. “You’re forgetting something.”

“I am?”

“There was a time Hiram Lodge took me under his wing,” Archie explains. “I think he was grooming me to become his right-hand man.”

Kevin makes a face. “How very Vito Corleone. What are you trying to tell me?”

“I saw all of the shell and ghost companies he uses to conduct business,” Archie says. He gestures to the laptop screen. “Want to bet that he’s somehow connected to Evergreen?”

Placing his hands on the keyboard, Kevin asks with determination in his voice, “What am I looking for?”

He listens to Archie rattling off various names of shell and ghost corporations; even those have more of the same. Their search becomes a tangled web of Hiram Lodge erasing his tracks which Kevin bitterly admits he does pretty well. If it weren’t for Archie’s knowledge of how this man’s brain works, he suspects he would be searching for months before finding anything.

“I miss the days when he was just an anonymous buyer,” Kevin mutters as he and Archie links one company to another. He rolls his head, feeling his neck crack before Archie’s hands begin rubbing his tense shoulders.

Archie plants a gentle kiss to temple. “He’s a first-rate Bond villain.”

“All he needs is a secret hideout on an island surrounded by robotic sharks,” Kevin grumbles.

“Robotic sharks?” Archie questions.

Shrugging, Kevin’s about to toss in more absurd ideas of what bad guys may or may not have in their arsenal when he notices a familiar name connected to a shell corporation. “Veles, LLC,” he says, awed, “with a CEO that goes by the mysterious moniker N. Wray.”

“Wray? As in Hiram’s mistress?”

Kevin nods. “And you wouldn’t believe where the headquarters are.”

He can’t tell if Archie looks relieved, horrified, or both. “Evergreen,” Archie replies, quietly. “Does this mean we nailed him?”

“Almost,” Kevin assures. “If we can tie him to the payout for the Shadow Lake Boys, Hiram Lodge won’t be able to worm his way out of what he’s done.”

“What if we don’t?” Archie asks, nervously.

Kevin touches his shoulder, squeezing it assuringly. “We will, Archie.” He watches Archie’s unchanging expression—the one filled with worry—and goes to touch his cheek. “I promise you we will.” When Archie turns into his hand and catches Kevin’s thumb against his bottom lip, he swears his heart skips a beat. “We will,” he says again, softer this time. Desire stirs hotly in his groin and he begins thinking of all the things they can do on the couch…or the bedroom.

Either way, Kevin wants Archie naked, like, _yesterday_.

“Then we’ll go home,” Archie whispers and like that, the spell breaks.

He tries not to look at Archie’s face as he turns back to the laptop. Kevin knows that the moment they return to Riverdale, this thing between them is over. Archie will want Friday’s in a booth at Pop’s while he shares a milkshake with Veronica, football practice after school, hanging out with Jughead, jamming on his guitar in the garage; he won’t want Kevin.

“Yeah,” Kevin says, trying to keep his tone light despite the growing ache in his chest. “Then we’ll go home.”

“Kev?” Archie calls, questioningly.

Breathing in, Kevin forces himself to smile. “It’s already late and we’ve got work to do,” he states. He waits for Archie’s protest, bracing himself for his teenage rebellion and even sees it forming on Archie’s tongue before it fades to confusion and a bit of hurt.

“Yeah,” Archie says as his shoulders slump in defeat. “Let’s get cracking.”

 

* * *

 

At nearly three in the morning, they find the missing pieces—three cashier checks made out to each of the Shadow Lake boys for ten thousand dollars each.

Kevin has pictured this moment for weeks; in his mind, they yell with excitement while jumping up and down in the old cabin. He could practically hear the floorboards creaking under their feet and when he and Archie fell into bed together, their celebrating was, well, more pornographic.

It’s neither scenario. There’s no boisterous celebration as they sit across from each other at the kitchen table, aware of the cavern growing between them when Kevin shows Archie the laptop screen. He watches Archie hang his head and sigh heavily before burying his face in his hands.

Then Kevin’s seldom used iPhone rings with Betty’s name flashing across the screen. Before he and Archie left Riverdale, Kevin and Betty agreed that contacting each other by cell phone was too risky and should only be used in real emergencies. Stunned, he picks it up with a quiet ‘hello’ while keeping his eyes on Archie’s face.

“Kev,” she says, breathlessly. And alarmed. “Kev, you and Archie need to come back to Riverdale.”

 

* * *

 

Kevin remembers a time when his interactions with Archie were painfully awkward.

During the first weeks after arriving at the cabin, alone and under a shroud of secrecy, Archie barely spoke and could hardly walk by a reflective surface without startling himself. When he did sleep, which wasn’t much, he usually woke them with his screams. To say it was awful is an understatement.

But it doesn’t even compare to what’s happening between them now.

They’re an hour outside of Riverdale when the snow-covered scenery begins looking familiar while the silence between them has more palpable than ever. The last time they spoke was well before leaving the cabin, before Betty’s frantic phone call.

And Kevin hates it. More than anything.

“What happens when we get back to Riverdale?” Archie asks when they’re less than twenty miles from their hometown.

Kevin swallows before answering, “We meet Betty and Jughead at your dad’s house.”

“I mean after that,” Archie says. “After we manage to sneak me into Riverdale and go to my house. What do we do with all of the information we found?”

“Sierra will be there so we can pass one of the USBs off to her,” Kevin tells him. He had insisted they make two copies of the information that will clear Archie’s name as well as upload it onto Kevin’s Dropbox account.

He can feel Archie’s eyes on him, searching his face for answers and it makes Kevin uncomfortable. “Then everything goes back to normal,” Archie mumbles.

It’s all he can handle before his temper breaks. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Kevin snaps. “For things to go back to normal? Friday nights at Pop’s, school dances after the big game, walking down the hallway with your arm around Veronica.”

“Leave her out of it!” Archie fires back. His protectiveness towards the man who ruined his life’s daughter causes Kevin’s anger turns to rage. “Veronica has nothing…”

Kevin hits the steering wheel with his fist. “It has _everything_ to do with this! You want to forget about what you’ve been through just to be normal,” he spits. “Never mind what was done to you because Hiram Lodge ordered it. As soon as he’s in prison, you and Veronica can put this mess behind you both and be endgame like you planned!”

“Like _I_ planned?” Archie yells. “What’s _really_ going on, Kev? You’ve been short with me before we left the cabin and now—” He gestures between them. “—you’re at my throat.”

He digs his fingernails into the steering wheel until they ache as he snarls, “Because you _used_ me, Archie! You jumped into my bed and now you’re going back to Veronica, of all people!”

“I didn’t jump into your bed!” Archie retorts.

Tears sting his eyes. “You did as soon as I let you,” Kevin fires back. “The stupidest thing is that I _knew_ I shouldn’t have. That you would go back to what you know best and not care about my feelings or that I lost my virginity to you because you want normal. You want a house with a white picket fence, a wife, and a dog with your two-point-five kids!”

“What?” Archie gasps as flashing red and blue lights illuminate the dark truck and falling snow.

It takes them a moment to realize it’s not holiday lights, but ones from a blockage standing between them and the only road with entry to Riverdale.

“Fuck,” Kevin curses as he slows down, but not enough to arouse suspicion. “Shit!” he yells as he slams his palms against the steering wheel, ignoring sting it produces. “Fuck!”

Archie clears his throat. “Kev, eyes on the road and hands on the wheel.”

“Just shut up, Archie!” he roars as he turns the truck around to keep the police from finding Archie the teenage fugitive. “That’s the only way into Riverdale for fifty miles and I guarantee Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane and his merry band of idiots blocking the other one!”

Kevin wants to punch the steering wheel again but knows he really ought to keep his hands on the stupid thing and his eyes on the road to keep suspicion away from them. Why he thought returning to Riverdale would be easy with Hiram Lodge in charge is beyond him.

If anything, the devil incarnate in designer duds has made life exceedingly difficult because he’s a Grade A Asshole from Hell.

“You do know there’s a service road just before the Centreville exit that leads right into town?” Archie points out, sourly, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.

He grips the steering wheel to keep a colorful diatribe from filling the truck. “No,” Kevin grouses. “I did not.”

“I think it goes through Fox Forest or something,” the other boys says offhandedly.

The Black Hood and his fight with Betty concerning Fox Forest comes to mind. Had she told Archie about it? Does Archie know what Kevin got up to in those woods? “Meaning?” he snarls.

“Meaning it goes through Fox Forest,” Archie deadpans while staring at Kevin like he’s grown two heads.

On second thought, maybe Betty didn’t mention it. “Oh,” Kevin says, feeling his cheeks beginning to burn. “How do we get to this service road?”

“You’ll want to hang right about a quarter mile from the Centreville exit,” Archie explains. “It’s a dirt road for most of it, but becomes kind of paved a little bit before you enter Fox Forest.”

Kevin nods. “Kind of paved?”

“I don’t think it’s seen a cement machine in years,” Archie tells him. He pats the armrest with a smile. “Nothing this truck can’t handle, right?”

“The truck can handle it just fine,” Kevin says nervously; he can feel it cracking his voice, “but it’s the seventeen-year-old driving it that might not.” He feels the familiar pressure of Archie touching him, giving Kevin pause as he steals a glance at his lover.

Archie squeezes his arm. “You got this.”

Kevin swallows as a sign saying Centreville is in three miles appears on the side of the road. “Yeah, I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, Kevin _does_ have it.

It being he manages to get them back into Riverdale using the service road—which, by the way, is not a road but a _fucking dirt trail_ that shouldn’t have a truck let alone _anything with wheels_ on its uneven surface—that spits them out near the Fox Forest entrance. Underneath all of its snow-covered glory, Riverdale is just as he and Archie left it.

A town filled with what-ifs and hiding a seedy side behind pep and perfectly manicured lawns.

Next to him, Archie’s buzzing with nerves which, in turn, makes Kevin nervous as he drives them down familiar—not to mention _empty_ —streets leading to the Andrews’ residence. Patrol cars pass by every so often, causing Archie to burrow into the shadows while Kevin holds his breath; the Riverdale police ignore them since they have bigger fish to fry. Two teenagers out at night are the least of their problems when there are Ghoulies, Southside Snakes, and Gargoyles and Griffins players running amok.

If only the police knew.

Archie begins tapping his fingers on his thigh before moving to the armrest. The sound makes Kevin a little crazy, but he gets it. They don’t know what kind of welcome awaits them when they arrive at Archie’s house or what will happen next. Sierra McCoy and Mary Andrews might be able to clear Archie’s name, but what about Hiram Lodge?

He’s a well-connected man with money to spare. He has the means to fight a conviction, to disappear. To take Archie’s last shreds of feeling safe with him.

Gritting his teeth, Kevin presses down on the accelerator at the thought of Archie having to spend his life looking over his shoulder. He won’t allow that to happen.

Neither of them speaks as Kevin turns onto Archie’s maple tree-lined street. A cookie cutter neighborhood home to a boy who’s no longer innocent. They pull up to the curb outside the yellow Craftsman, Archie staring at the illuminated windows while Kevin parks the truck.

If this were a movie, Archie would unbuckle his seat belt and slide across to take Kevin into his arms and say that they’ll be okay. If this were a movie, they would kiss—damn the consequences and whoever saw them. They would get their happily ever after.

But none of these things are happening as Kevin watches Archie unbuckling his seat belt and opening the passenger side door. He follows in silence, meeting Archie on the sidewalk and, together, they walk up the front steps of Archie’s house.

There’s movement in the windows; a shadow standing up and rushing to the entryway. As he and Archie draw closer, Kevin hears their heels slapping against the hardwood floor. The front door flies open the moment they set foot on the porch, spilling light onto them and the snow.

“Archiekins!” Veronica cries, throwing her arms around Archie.

And she has no idea—no idea that Kevin and Archie have two USBs containing information that will blow her world apart.

Kevin notices Archie looking at him as he returns Veronica’s embrace, albeit uncomfortably, before breathing in Veronica’s perfume and closing his eyes. They sway together, seemingly unaware of the others watching them like the world doesn’t exist beyond Archie and Veronica.

At least Kevin doesn’t have to suffer the indignity of Archie catching him swallowing back tears as Betty joins them so she can pull Kevin into a fierce hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers, holding him tighter. When they pull away, Betty cups Kevin’s cheek with a knowing expression, because of course she knows. “We’ll talk about it later,” she tells him. “Okay?”

He nods. “Okay,” Kevin whispers back over Fred Andrews saying, “Archie?”

“Dad!” Archie calls as he breaks away from Veronica and goes into the safety of his father’s arms. It’s then Archie begins to sob into Mr. Andrew’s shoulder as he clutches his father’s plaid overshirt. “Dad,” he whimpers.

Fred presses his cheek to the top of Archie’s head and holds his son, rocking him back and forth as he whispers comforting words into Archie’s hair.

Watching this tender moment makes Kevin feel like he’s intruding even with the small crowd of bewildered faces watching them from the doorway. He spies Jughead, Josie, Reggie, and FP, which doesn’t surprise him in the slightest, but not seeing his father or Sierra does.

“We should go inside,” Jughead suggests. “Before someone sees us.”

Archie and Fred break apart. “Come,” Fred beckons with his arm slung over Archie’s shoulders. “We have a lot to talk about.”

As everyone files into the Andrews’ house, Kevin notices Josie hanging back in the doorway. When he gets close enough, she pulls him into a tight hug. “Hey,” he says. “Where are our parents?”

“They’re on their way,” she explains as she links their arms. “Mom needed to go by her office to grab the rest of Archie’s case files. How did you and Archie get inside? The entire town is under quarantine!”

Kevin snorts. “Service road between here and Centreville,” he replies. “Trust me when I tell you that calling it a road is a bit generous.”

 

* * *

 

Inside is _much_ warmer than the porch.

Kevin practically sighs with relief as he removes his coat. The truck’s heating is subpar at best and isn’t meant for hours of driving, so yeah, he’s going to soak in the warmth of the Andrews’ home for a minute before Betty herds him into the living room.

Where Archie is sitting on the couch with Veronica. She has her arm looped through his and her head resting on Archie’s shoulder, grinning adoringly. As much as Kevin wants to pry her off of Archie, he can’t begrudge her this poignant reunion. Kevin’s certain that Veronica’s gone through a lot while he and her ex have been playing house in the woods.

Kevin can’t help but notice the way Reggie is looking at them. Odd.

“Do you boys need anything?” Fred asks. Kevin notices that Mr. Andrews looks older; hair grayer than he remembers, face filled with more wrinkles.

As he and Archie shake their heads, Kevin surmises that having your son falsely convicted of murder and on the lam after escaping prison would age anyone.

“Just for this to be over with,” Archie says quietly. He’s staring at his lap, unable to look at everyone gathered inside the living room. Kevin knows the other boy is overwhelmed from being home, from Veronica clinging to him, from the seven pairs of eyes searching silently asking questions Archie isn’t ready to answer.

Kevin clears his throat. “Could someone explain why the town is under quarantine?”

“Officially?” Veronica says as she lifts her head. She looks as stylish and beautiful as Kevin remembers, save for the frown wrinkling her forehead. “An unknown illness causing seizures in the town’s teenage population.” Her expression darkens even more. “Unofficially, my father up to no good.”

Archie flinches. “What’s he done?”

“We think he’s in cahoots with the Goblin King,” Betty says. “Or pretending to be him.”

She clearly hasn’t told Veronica about the information Kevin found. Whether it’s for the best or not, there’s always a chance that Veronica could have a change of heart and tell dear old dad what her friends know. If that happened, they would be in danger and, if the past few months have been anything to go by, Hiram Lodge has proved himself to be a very dangerous man.

“You know, I could use some water,” Kevin says suddenly as he stares at Betty. “Want to show me where the glasses are?”

Kevin’s been in this house more times than he can count and knows exactly where the glasses are. The cabinet doors in the kitchen are see-through for fuck’s sake!

Luckily Betty is quick on the uptake. “Sure,” she replies brightly and, damn, Kevin adores her for it. “Juggy, want to come?”

Jughead nods as he pushes off the wall and follows them into the kitchen. There’ll be time for the lifelong best friends to catch up, but for now, there are more pressing issues. As soon as the trio turns a corner, Jughead shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “How’s he doing?” he asks.

“He’s dealing,” Kevin answers. “As well as he can.”

Jughead purses his lips together and nods in understanding. “Yeah,” he whispers. He looks at Kevin with an earnest expression on his usually solemn, angsty face. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for Archie. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“That it wasn’t,” Kevin replies, trying to break the serious atmosphere. He reaches into his jacket pocket and digs out one of the USBs, which he hands off to Betty. “I uploaded the information onto my DropBox as a precaution. You know the password.” He doesn’t tell her about the second USB in his other pocket because he’s seen enough movies to know that it’ll backfire spectacularly.

Betty stares at the seemingly innocent USB in her palm as if she’s waiting for something to happen. “It’s so small,” she comments, awed. “But so destructive. Isn’t it?” She glances at Jughead and Kevin.

“No more destructive than trying to ruin a teenager’s life,” Jughead mumbles.

She nods because it’s the truth. Only a truly horrible human being would have the balls to put a seventeen year old—a child, really—through hell like Hiram’s done to Archie. Betty closes her fist and clutches the USB to her chest. “Kev, thank you,” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kevin goes to her and wraps his arms around Betty’s petite frame. “Hey,” he says into her iconic blonde ponytail. “We did it.”

“Kevin Keller and Betty Cooper,” Jughead says, proudly as someone’s cell phone rings in the other room. He’s even smiling. “The real superheroes. Poirot, Miss Marple, and Sherlock Holmes have nothing on you.” Of course Jughead compliments them with a pop culture reference and honestly, Kevin would be worried if he didn’t.

And he laughs. It bubbles up from his stomach through his throat and out of his mouth where it pierces the silence of the kitchen. Betty and Jughead follow suit, the three of them hugging and laughing until Reggie bursts in, pale and haunted.

“What?” Jughead asks. “What is it?”

Reggie’s throat works as he struggles to speak before finally uttering, “Mr. Lodge is on the phone. He knows you and Archie are back.”

One moment Kevin’s in the kitchen with Betty in his arms and Jughead hugging them both, then the next he’s in the living room by Archie’s side as Veronica holds her iPhone.

“I guess the gang’s all here,” Hiram comments. Kevin can hear the man’s sneer through the speaker. “How strange that you would be having a party during a quarantine, Fred. It’s almost inconsiderate.”

How Fred Andrews keeps his composure, Kevin will never know. The man is a beacon of calm; the type of father who hardly yells and bestows advice after listening to one’s problems. He breathes in and out, his hand on Archie’s shoulder unmoving. “What do you want, Hiram?”

“Such a loaded question,” the other man says. His chair creaks as he moves; Kevin imagines him to be in his office, surrounded by books and antiques with that hideous oil painting of Veronica hanging over the fireplace.

For such a rich man, you’d think he would find a better painter.

“Is it me?” Archie asks. He slips out of Veronica’s grasp, inching closer to where Kevin stands. “Is it me you want? So we can finish this?”

Hiram chuckles. “You make it sound like we’re going to meet at the local park and have a tussle. How very _Outsiders_ of you, Archie.”

Archie swallows nervously. “Well? What do you want, Hiram?” he demands; while Kevin isn’t certain that Hiram can hear the terror in Archie’s voice, the people gathered around him can see it written all over his face and in his body language. He’s gone pale with it, wide-eyed and trembling.

“What do I want?” Hiram wonders mockingly.

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Spill it, daddy dearest. No one’s going to wait on ceremony for you!”

“Mija, when will you learn that good things come to those who wait?” Hiram asks. Something about his tone makes the small hairs on Kevin’s neck stand on end. “Because I did. All of that waiting for Archie to return from where he was hidden away—and, Fred, kudos for a job well done; truly—he _finally_ returned. With such good timing to boot!”

Kevin tears his eyes away from the phone to look at Archie, who shudders at Hiram’s words. He takes a step towards the other boy and already has his hand out to touch him when Fred cuts in front of him as he goes to his son’s side. He grasps Archie’s trembling shoulder, worrying his thumb over the joint as Kevin had done.

He thinks of how they laid in bed together—after sex, after a long hike, before they turned in for the night—and all of the times he touched Archie. And Archie touched him. How easy it was for them to be intimate without realizing it. How they did it like they breathed; unconsciously but necessary.

Like he and Archie were starving for that type of intimacy—and maybe they had been.

“He can’t hurt you,” Kevin hears Fred whisper to his son as he rubs Archie’s bicep. “He can say whatever he wants, Arch, but he can’t hurt you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Fred,” Hiram counters in that serpent-like voice of his. “I can say what I want and do what I want, including making your son’s life a living hell.”

The entire room watches Archie struggle to keep his emotions in check, but he does. Maybe it’s having so many people supporting him—even with their silence—or his own inner strength, but Archie does. Hiram’s taunting seems to make him angry and angry is good. Kevin thinks he needs to be angry to get through this. “What do _you_ want?” he growls, punctuating every word with his question.

“To settle this unsavory dispute between us like men.” The tinkling sound of Hiram fussing with his cufflinks plays over the iPhone speaker. “Since you think you’re already one.”

When he notices Archie’s nostrils flaring, Kevin already knows that he’s taking the bait. “Fine. Where?”

“Archie,” Fred begins to say.

He shakes away from his father’s grip. “No, Dad,” Archie counters. “If this is what Hiram wants, I’ll do it, but only in exchange for having my conviction exonerated.”

“Deal,” Hiram replies. “Meet me at the Pembrooke… _alone_. The deal’s off the table if you try anything.”

The call disconnects and instead of all hell breaking loose, the Andrews’ living room fills with deafening silence. The kind of silence described in mystery novels or where you might be able to hear a pin drop. Kevin’s heard it in his own house—when his mom left for an assignment and he and his dad sat across the dinner table without a word to say to each other—and that familiar unease begins chafing at him.

“You can’t go,” Veronica says.

Archie looks at her. “It’s not up for debate, Ronnie.”

“It is up for debate!” she yells. “My father is manipulative _and_ dangerous. He _will_ kill you!”

“I agree with Veronica, Arch,” Jughead interjects. “Hiram Lodge’s already proven he will go to extraordinary lengths to keep himself safe in that ivory tower at the Pembrooke.” He looks at Veronica. “No offense.”

She waves him off. “None taken,” Veronica tells him. “Maybe you can talk some sense into your best friend with a death wish.”

And like that, the pandemonium Kevin has been bracing himself for appears. Everyone begins voicing their objections, octaves rising over each other until they blend into one big, chaotic sound. Honestly, he can’t even pinpoint a point of origin with all of that noise. If it were possible to do so without being teased for it, Kevin wishes he could cover his ears.

Instead, he uses the opportunity to leave the living room undetected. In the hallway, he breathes in until his nostrils burn and release it as he uses the wall for support. Kevin shoves his hands into his coat pockets, surprised to feel something cool brushing against his fingers. Then he remembers…

The second USB. A bartering chip.

Kevin peeks into the living room, his eyes find Archie in the fray as he tries to make his voice heard in a sea of them. He could go in and rescue him or…

Or he could slip out of the house unnoticed and go to Hiram in Archie’s place.

No one would notice his absence until he was already gone and, perhaps, long after Hiram Lodge has discovered the deceit and the other USB is safely in Sierra’s possession. By then Archie would be free, his innocence restored and the nightmare over.

Squeezing the USB, Kevin steels himself as he quietly goes to the front door. It opens with nothing more than a faint whine as it lets in the cold night air. Without a second thought, Kevin closes it behind him once he’s back on the porch and wishes for one thing.

That he got to see his dad before he leaves.

 

* * *

 

In a long list of undoubtedly _stupid_ ideas Kevin’s ever had, going to the Pembrooke is at the fucking top.

What he expected when he arrived, Kevin has no clue. He remembers going to the conciergerie—his face and hair partially concealed by the beaten baseball cap Archie left in the truck—and announcing that he was Archie Andrews “here to see Mr. Lodge.” The man behind the desk nodded ever so slightly as he picked up the phone and called up to the Lodge apartment.

Everything seemed to be going according to the fabricated scenario dreamed up on his way over. He would meet with Hiram, show him the content of the USB before threatening to expose him if he didn’t leave Archie alone. He imaged Hiram Lodge paling at the world knowing his misdeeds and finally agreeing to Kevin’s terms. Simple, effective, and it would all be over before Archie even stepped foot at the Pembrooke’s front steps.

It doesn’t go that way.

 _Why?_ someone might ask.

Because Kevin Keller is a fucking idiot.

He should have known as the Conciergerie gestured towards the elevator and said “this way, Mr. Andrews” that something was wrong. It seemed too easy because it was too easy.

As soon as the elevator doors slide shut, Kevin felt a creeping sensation tingling down his spine. Or someone’s breath brushing against the exposed skin of his neck. Then he realized there were two men standing behind him—a little too late, might he add—before one of their fists collides with his stomach, stunning Kevin momentarily as air rushes from his lungs before another finds his nose and leaves his nostrils spurting blood down his face.

Pain blossoms in his midsection as Kevin stumbles into the elevator doors. He hardly has a moment to anticipate their next move when pain explodes from his temple followed by a burst of white.

Then nothing.

Nothing until the cold press of glass against his cheek lures him back to consciousness. He tastes the metallic sweetness of blood on his tongue where it’s managed to seep between his lips. Making the unfortunate mistake of squeezing his eyes, Kevin groans as pain ricochets through his skull. His stomach churns with nausea made worse by his body being jostled around.

Kevin forces himself to open his eyes and finds his own moonlit reflection staring back at him. Blood stains his skin where his nose bled and leaves a tacky trail near a spectacular bruise forming on his temple. As Kevin begins checking himself for broken bones, he hears snickering. The source comes from two of Hiram Lodge’s goons sitting in the front seat. One of them drives while the other makes sure that Kevin sees his gun; probably the same one used to knock him unconscious.

“Pretty Boy’s awake,” the gun-toting goon mentions to his colleague, clearly and not-so-originally referring to their passenger. As the man turns to sneer at him, Kevin wonders if someone hands out a guide to naming your hostages to people like this guy. “What does the boss want us to do with him?”

Kevin’s heart speeds up at the question. “Leave me on the side of the road because I learned my lesson. Don’t play with thugs,” he says, unable to keep his mouth shut.

“Shut up!” the man snarls, pointing the gun at Kevin’s face.

The driver shakes his head. “Boss said to keep him _mostly_ unharmed.”

“You should put that away,” Kevin suggests from the backseat.

The man’s head whips around with a diatribe on his tongue when his colleague says, warningly, “Mostly unharmed. He and the kid have a lot to discuss.”

“I hope he pops him one in that smart mouth of his,” the other man grumbles.

Kevin really hopes Hiram doesn’t but refuses to say it aloud. He’s just a kid with a USB and outnumbered by two men with guns, so he sinks into the leather seat and begins to formulate his escape. If the windy, bumpy roads are anything to go by, he’s being driven towards Sweetwater River.

The thought alone makes Kevin nervous.

He shifts in the seat, wondering what he could do when he feels his cell phone bump against his stomach. Kevin raises his eyebrows in surprise because he thought goons such as the two in the front would have dumped it before driving off into the night. Hell, he even forgot that he still had it!

 _Amateurs,_ he thinks, bitterly, as he reaches inside his jacket and pulls the phone out. Under the concealment of the passenger seat, he fires off a hasty text message saying _Sweetwater_ to Betty before he loses service. He slips it back into his pocket with the two men none the wiser to what he has done.

Betty always has her phone and will know what to do before he ends up in an unmarked grave along the river’s edge, which is something Kevin should _absolutely not be thinking_. He takes a deep breath as he turns to the window and fogs up the glass with his exhale.

In the distance, Sweetwater River appears through the trees, bathed in moonlight and covered with ice. It’s a strange place to have a late night meeting, but then again, Hiram Lodge doesn’t do the expected.

The road becomes bumpier as the asphalt gives away to dirt. It’s the same one Kevin has driven his dad’s truck down more times than he can remember. He tries to look around the front passenger seat to see what’s ahead of the car.

“Don’t think about it,” the man with the gun tells him, brandishing it in Kevin’s face. “Ass in your seat or else.”

Swallowing, Kevin does what he’s told and leans back since finding out what or else means isn’t high on his priorities. He feels his heart thudding against his ribs as the car draws closer to the river’s edge, absently remembering how he and Moose used to meet up here. Hell, they nearly had their first hook up by the water before stumbling upon Jason Blossom’s corpse.

 _Man, those were the good old days!_ Kevin muses as the car comes up to the wooden fence that opens to the trail leading down to the river. Next to it is Hiram Lodge’s town car, already parked with its headlights shining onto the water but no sign of the man himself.

“He’s down there,” the driver tells him. He turns around in his seat, looking at Kevin expectantly.

“Who is?” Kevin asks.

The driver rolls his eyes while his colleague points the gun at Kevin. “Who do you think? Get out! Mr. Lodge doesn’t have all day!”

“Okay, okay,” Kevin says as he unbuckles his seat belt. “Fine. I’m going!” He opens the car door, almost glad to be away from this trigger happy goon and take his chances with Hiram Lodge. Gravel and dirt crunch under his sneakers as he steps out into the biting cold and notices his breath curling in the air. A hand digs into his bicep and tugs, causing Kevin to stumble his own feet.

The man with the gun doesn’t stop as he pulls Kevin towards the trail leading down to the shore. “This way.”

Kevin follows him in silence, biting his tongue since getting pistol whipped _again_ isn’t something he wants to experience. His balance is already off while the constant throbbing from his temple remains, well, constant. Honestly, Kevin thinks he might have a concussion which doesn’t bode well for him.

At least it’s not happening to Archie because that _is_ the whole point of Kevin doing this. His friend— _his lover_ —has been through enough for one lifetime.

“He’s at the river,” the goon tells Kevin as he shoves him through an opening in the wooden fence. “Don’t keep him waiting, kid.” With that, he goes back to the car.

Kevin watches the car kick up fallen snow and debris as it pulls out and disappears into the night.

He’s utterly alone now with only Hiram Lodge and an uncertain fate to keep him company. Kevin realizes he could run into the woods, though it’s dark and near freezing. He has no flashlight and even if he remembered to charge his phone, it wouldn’t do him much good because he has no idea where he is along Sweetwater River—which could be _anywhere_ —and basically, he’s _fucked_.

Kevin begins shaking. Tremors engulf his body, from his footsteps as Kevin forces himself to walk to his fingertips. He knows it isn’t the cold.

It’s fear.

He concentrates on the image of Archie lying in bed with him. The way his hair lights up from the morning sun, how warm he feels as he slots their bodies together. He thinks of Archie’s touch and his laughter. The dimples at either corner of his mouth.

Anything but the man waiting for him in the darkness.

Anything but his shaking limbs and pounding heart as he walks on frozen ground.

Hiram stands alone at the river’s edge with his back to Kevin. If it weren’t the headlights above, he would blend into the night thanks to his black clothing. “You’ve kept me waiting,” he states.

Kevin says nothing.

“Have you been here during winter?” Hiram asks. His breath—his words—become wisps in the frigid air. “Quiet, isn’t it? So quiet that you begin to wonder how it’s even real.” Hiram doesn’t wait for a reply as he turns to Kevin with a debonaire grin on his face.

There was a time when Kevin found Hiram to be charming, handsome even but now he knows better. This man radiates pure evil; his soul is black with it. Kevin watches as Hiram’s true nature replaces the mask he shows the world.

Hiram takes a step closer, head cocked to the side as his grin vanishes. “You’re not Archie Andrews.”

Nausea roils in his stomach; it takes everything for him to swallow it down. “You’re right,” Kevin says, raising his chin. “I’m not.”

“You’re Tom Keller’s boy,” Hiram observes as he comes into Kevin’s sphere. “Kevin, isn’t it?”

He nods.

“My daughter is friends with you. Did Veronica send you in Archie’s stead?”

“No,” Kevin answers, finally finding his voice.

Hiram raises one of his eyebrows. “Did Archie?”

“Neither of them knows I’m here.” Kevin swallows nervously. “No one knows I’m here.”

“Huh,” Hiram says, studying him. Something about being near Hiram after knowing what he’s done to Archie—to others—makes Kevin feel like he’s facing down the Devil. “And why _are_ you here, Kevin?”

Kevin reaches into his pocket for the USB. “I want to offer a trade.”

Hiram’s laughter isn’t exactly unexpected, though it grates on Kevin’s nerves. “A trade? That’s adorable, Kevin, but I’m afraid I don’t trade with children.” He goes to turn away.

“But you _will_ ruin their lives,” Kevin snarls. “And allow them to be beaten and raped because they opposed you.”

The older man’s laughter dies, reveal a sneer that sends a shiver down Kevin’s spine. “Allowed it?” he questions, his tone darkening. “I made sure of it.”

Kevin swears his heart stops. “You what?”

“Did you and your friends think the actions of those who abused Archie were just a terrible coincidence?” Hiram asks, mockingly. “That his luck was so awful? While it is, I orchestrated every part of it to _destroy him_ and it worked! Archie Andrews is nothing but a shell of his former self! Broken and ruin…”

Before Kevin realizes what he’s doing, he shoves Hiram with as much force as he can. He watches the older man stumble back and stare at him. He resembles a serpent ready to strike, but Kevin doesn’t care. He’s too angry to care. “Archie isn’t broken or ruined!” he growls. “ _You_ only made _him_ stronger.”

Kevin blinks when a fire ignites behind his closed eyelids. Heat radiates around his body, consuming him until he screams in agony and falls to his knees. Blood pours down his shirt until it soaks the inside of his jacket. He tries to breathe, tries to move but the pain…

Clutching his shoulder, Kevin blinks furiously as he steadies his gaze on Hiram standing just a few feet away with a smoking pistol in his hand.

Then he understands he’s been shot by Hiram.

Hiram’s expression remains unchanged as he walks over to Kevin and nudges the USB away from him. Kevin hadn’t realized he dropped the stupid thing and, without hesitation, tries to reach for it.

The pain stops him.

It sears through his shoulder, burning him like a branding iron. For a brief moment, Kevin’s mind goes blank with it until it recedes and his throat is sore from screaming again. He takes slow, deep breaths, fighting through the near-irresistible urge to pass out; _fuck_ , he wants to!

Kevin notices Hiram’s black Oxfords near the USB, lingering over the device before slamming his heel down and crushing the metal and plastic into the snow.

“All of this effort to be thwarted again,” Hiram muses. He squats in front of Kevin with the gun dangling in his grasp. “When will that boy learn that I can’t be stopped?”

Kevin’s fingers curl around his shoulder as blood continues oozing from the wound. He’s going to need surgery to fix it and a damned good excuse as to why he went in Archie’s place. _Because I love you,_ he thinks. _Because I want you to stay alive._

“It’s over, Kevin,” Hiram announces. He grabs Kevin’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “ _Over,_ ” he says slowly, as he digs his fingernails into Kevin’s skin. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He stares into the abyss of Hiram’s eyes; the color of onyx and soullessness. Pride and wrath reside there as well, turning them into fathomless voids that should scare Kevin—it doesn’t. Perhaps it’s the probable concussion paired with the shock of being shot and the blood loss that follows, but Kevin finds himself laughing.

Not only laughing but _doing it right in Hiram Lodge’s face_.

“Did you really think I would bring the only copy with me?” Kevin grits, painfully, through his teeth. Honestly, he’s a bit offended that Hiram thinks he would be so stupid.

If anything, the pain is worth watching Hiram’s expression fall in horror upon realizing that he’s been outsmarted by a teenager. God, Kevin would give anything to hear the inner monologue running through Hiram’s mind! Instead, he laughs and keeps laughing.

Snow begins to fall as Hiram pulls out his cell phone to make a call. “We have a problem,” he says to the person on the other end.

He doesn’t get the rest of his sentence out; Kevin doesn’t let him.

Adrenaline speeds up his heart and pulse, causing them to roar in Kevin’s ears as he charges at Hiram. Whatever pain he was feeling moments ago is gone as he sacks the older man in the middle and sends them onto the frozen river. The clatter of a cell phone and gun skidding across the ice in opposite directions, becoming lost to the darkness and freshly fallen snow, dulls under Hiram’s shouts.

Hearing him is gratifying and only spurs Kevin into further action—escaping Hiram and finding help. Kevin curls his fist into a tight ball and punches the older man in the face. The blow crushes the soft cartilage of Hiram’s nose, spilling blood on Kevin’s knuckles.

He does it again, imagining Archie standing behind him as his fist collides with Hiram’s jaw. The sickening crack breaks Kevin out of his rage and he realizes that he needs to leave _now_ —while Hiram lies on the ground in a daze.

Forcing himself to his feet, Kevin ignores the agony radiating from his shoulder and _runs_. Runs across the frozen river towards the cloak of darkness on the other side. Into the snow that’s beginning to fall more heavily by the minute. Into uncertainty because he doesn’t want to die by Hiram Lodge’s hand.

“Get back here!” Hiram roars, his voice echoing all around them. “Kevin!”

Instinctively Kevin already knows Hiram is running towards him. He doesn’t need to turn his head to see his silhouette. Hiram’s there, behind him and enraged by Kevin’s actions.

Enraged enough to silence him.

Kevin almost tumbles over a patch of ice hidden under fresh snow, taking away from his head start as Hiram closes the distance between them. Keeping himself upright jars his shoulder and sends sparks of pain shooting down his arm, through his body. Kevin bites back his scream in favor of pressing on. If he gets away, he can go back to Archie and tell him it’s over.

It’s over and they’ve won.

The sound of ice splintering under the soles of his sneakers fills his ears, causing Kevin to skid to a stop with his arms out and eyes widening in horror. He turns to Hiram, noticing the snarl on his face as he approaches the center of the river.

“No!” Kevin shouts in warning as he waves his good arm. “You’ll break the ice!”

Hiram moves closer. The anger in his eyes shows an inferno, much like a moonless night or void threatening to swallow everything in sight. “Do you think I’m going to fall for one of your tricks, Kevin?” he hisses.

“It’s not a trick!” Kevin tells him. The ice whines under the additional weight, shifting dangerously and cracking further. “Mr. Lodge, we’ll fall in.”

Darkness curls at Hiram’s mouth, tugging it into a sinister grin that would make Kevin shiver if he wasn’t already. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” he says as he sets his foot in front of the other.

The ice buckles under them, shrieking loud enough to drown out his and Hiram’s shouts. One moment they are standing on it and then next, Kevin finds himself immersed in cold water; leaden with it.

It steals the heat from his body, dulls the pain coming from his shoulder, and robs Kevin of his breath.

Flailing his arms, Kevin searches for the surface. Hiram isn’t even a thought in his mind, only that Kevin needs air in his burning lungs.

That he needs to _breathe_.

His fingers scrape the winter air, aching furiously from the razor-sharp cold. Relief floods him as Kevin forces his limbs to swim towards the gap in the ice because _he will not die like this_. He refuses!

With a strong kick propelling himself upward, Kevin’s head breaks the surface to drink in the frigid air where he coughs up water. He grasps onto the side, burying his fingers into the ice to keep himself from slipping under. He’s already avoided drowning, but Kevin knows how important it is for him to get to dry land _and_ warmth before he succumbs to the cold.

And it _would_ be his luck to trade one form of death for another.

Kevin counts to three in his head before attempting to pull himself to dry land. The first time, his hands slip, carelessly, on the ice and he falls back into the water, his cheek scraping against the side of the hole. Sputtering, Kevin breaks the surface once more and releases a growl of frustration.

The second time, he’s scaling the side when a searing sensation explodes in his back and twists horribly as his muscles and nerves are gouged by a blade. Kevin chokes on his scream as the knife is pulled from his body and plunged into his thigh. Blood drains from his wounds, mixing with the icy water and the cold air. The coppery-sweet tang of it tingles in Kevin’s nostrils and he _knows he’s fucked_ —there’s no question.

Somewhere beneath him, Hiram Lodge twists the blade deeper as Kevin struggles to get away.

And he screams.

He screams so loudly that his vision goes dark at the edges, matching every movement of the knife buried in his leg. Keeps screaming as his legs find something solid below the surface and kicks it, allowing him to pull half of his body from the water.

Then everything stills as he lays on the ice, exhausted and delirious with pain.

 _It should be colder,_ he thinks.

After all half of his body is submerged in the frigid water while the rest of him clings to the frozen river. What Kevin expected…well, he doesn’t know. Perhaps the feeling of a thousand knives piercing his skin as the ice gave away with a loud, foreboding snap or freezing instantly if he wasn’t already shot before falling into Sweetwater River. Maybe he’d get tossed a bone and lose consciousness as soon as he was submerged.

That’s how they do it in the movies anyway.

Whatever he expected, it’s not the numbness or absolute exhaustion that keeps him in the water. Even his bloodied knuckles and the darkness tinging his blurry vision surprises him. And don’t let him start on his shoulder and lower back or the deep gash down the side of his thigh with the knife still embedded in the muscle.

If Kevin could ignore the fiery explosion of pain each time he moves, he would. He would already be halfway across the frozen lake and inside the Jaguar parked on the shore where he’s certain there’s a cell phone.

Digging his fingers into the snow-covered ice, Kevin forces his body to try pulling himself out of the water despite how much it shakes from the cold and the effort. He’s rewarded by the splash of the river soaking his already soaked clothing as he makes very little headway before groaning in defeat.

Pressing his bruised cheek against the frozen water, Kevin breathes out and watches his exhale curling into nonsensical shapes before vanishing. “Give yourself a minute,” he whispers through chattering teeth to no one in particular. Kevin silently recites wrestling moves until he deems himself ready for another attempt.

He aches—aches within the very molecular structure of his being—when he moves; like jagged glass tearing into his skin. Crying out, Kevin loses his tentative grip and plunges into the river once again. The one he used to swim in during the sweltering summers with his friends and that will likely be his grave if he doesn’t force himself out of the water. Kevin propels himself to the surface where the sweet, cold air greets his nostrils and inside of his mouth as he sucks in one precious breath after another as he collapses on the ice. It feels like millions of cuts as it passes to his lungs, but it means he’s still alive. He’s still breathing…for now. It won’t be too much longer until that, too, ceases.

Through the falling snow and darkness, he stares at the shoreline. A place he’s stood more times than he can remember with nuances he’s never paid attention to. He’s never noticed how the trees hang over the river, dangling their bare branches into the water, or the evergreens behind them, braving the elements year after year. Kevin wonders how much they’ve seen; certainly, every joy and sorrow making up the strange tapestry that is Riverdale. First kisses, summer picnics, falling in love, Jason Blossom’s bloated corpse, and now _him_ , an actual human popsicle.

For having such a mundane life, Kevin really thought he would die in an equally mundane fashion which, in hindsight, he wouldn’t really mind. Something traditional like passing away in his sleep at some ripe old age whilst surrounded by his loved ones and a few dogs. He’d even take a heart attack at this point; just not this.

Anything but this because _this_ will absolutely kill his dad.

Snow lands on his eyelashes and melts from what little body heat he has. The bitter cold fills his eyes or, maybe, it’s exhausted tears. Kevin isn’t sure about anything…other than he’s going to die.

He will because he wanted to protect his loved ones, no matter the cost. That’s something to be proud of in his final moments; something they’ll print in the _Register_ under his name and the brief summary detailing Kevin Keller’s short life. Maybe Betty will write it: the son of former Sheriff Keller and his absentee mother. Honors student and varsity wrestler. The token out and proud gay kid. A loyal friend to many and his heart taken by one Archie Andrews.

 _Archie,_ he thinks mournfully. God, he never told him how he felt and Kevin isn’t going to fool himself into thinking that Archie knows. The boy is gorgeous but oblivious. Then again running into the fray to save another’s life probably screams _I love you_ from the mountain tops.

It’s just…it would have been better if Kevin had been able to tell Archie in so many words.

He _wanted_ to tell him. He wanted to see Archie’s face light up when he did, even if it only happened once.

After all that Archie’s been through, this will absolutely _wreck_ him. Kevin wishes it weren’t true or that it wasn’t a certainty. Archie deserves more than this; he deserves all of the happiness Kevin won’t be able to give him and the promises they whispered to each other under the blankets; the ones he won’t be able to keep. He deserves a life where he doesn’t live in fear and feels safe again.

He thinks of Archie touching him with hands, lips and tongue and how Kevin did the same. He’s memorized every hill and valley of Archie’s body, the sounds he makes when they’re in bed, marveling how his muscles move under Kevin’s palms, or even rousing a smile from him. It makes Kevin realize in his delirious state that he’ll never experience these things again.

Someone else, God willing, but not him.

A hot tear slides down his cold cheek until it disappears, only leaving the memory of it on Kevin’s skin as his surroundings dim under the falling snow. Beyond the frozen river lies the shore where the car continues running and its headlights cast an eerie glow, twinkling merrily in the distance.

The warm light makes Kevin think of the cabin and the roaring fire in an otherwise darkened space. Of the sun shining through the windows and filling each room with its beams. Of lying in bed and waking early enough to watch Archie sleeping, his red hair illuminated by the morning.

Kevin thinks of those times as the headlights dim and the darkness swimming at the edge of his vision finally swallows him whole.

A whisper keeps him from succumbing, spoken so softly—like a gentle caress or a breeze—that it beckons Kevin to open his eyes. He blinks, breaking the frozen tears from his eyelashes to look at the shore where headlights spill onto the river and himself. The whisper comes again.

 _Kev,_ it says, the words curling over his wet hair and cold skin.

Kevin groans in reply. He tries to lift his head off the ice but fails when moving proves to be too much for his body to handle. Closing his eyes, Kevin lets out a defeated whimper as tears pool at his lash line.

 _Come on, Preppy, this isn’t like you,_ they say, chuckling. _You’re giving up too easily._

He recognizes that voice—he’ll always recognize that voice. “You’re dead,” Kevin intones as he pries his eyelids open to find a blurry face next to his own. “You’re dead…”

In the darkness and snowfall, Kevin makes out Joaquin’s lazy grin—the one he kissed more times than he can count—and icy blue eyes. The same eyes that held more secrets than answers and, yet, Joaquin’s here. He knows it’s impossible because Joaquin is dead and has been for weeks now. It doesn’t stop his tears from falling and retracing the frozen path left behind by the ones before them. “I’m so tired,” he sobs.

The specter nods in understanding, though Kevin sees the doubt on Joaquin’s face as if he’s asking, _Is this how you want to die?_

“No,” Kevin whispers through numb lips. Fighting his own body, Kevin lifts his head off the ice and decides that this isn’t how he wants to die. He doesn’t want to allow Hiram this last feeble victory. “No,” he says as he reaches into the water with a trembling hand. For as numb as his fingertips feel, he still finds the knife embedded in his thigh.

He wants to keep staring at Joaquin for fear that if he looks away, Joaquin will disappear. Kevin takes a deep breath as his trembling fingers grip the slender handle and pulls, igniting a brand new agony that makes him scream. The sound reverberates around him as the blade comes loose and unsheaths itself from his body as if it’s cutting him all over again. It whites out his vision before receding.

Kevin’s alone.

And there’s a knife in his hand.

Squeezing the handle, Kevin raises the knife out of the water and slams it down, stabbing the blade into the ice. He does it again and again until the hole is deep enough to keep the weapon steady as he pulls himself free, even if it means cutting his fingers in the process.

He doesn’t want to die here. He doesn’t want to be another casualty in Hiram Lodge’s quest for domination.

He doesn’t want to be Ben or Dilton or even Joaquin with their blue lips and senseless deaths.

Kevin tugs onto the knife as he wiggles over the side, smearing blood—his blood—on the ice. It takes nearly every last ounce of energy for him to free himself, but he does with a shout as his wounds protest. He leaves the knife embedded in the snow and begins crawling away from the hole where the sound of water running under the frozen river plays a mournful melody.

Sweetwater River won’t claim another life tonight and it suits Kevin just fine.

He continues crawling under he’s a safe enough distance away from the break in the ice and slowly rises to his feet. Kevin takes a few stumbling steps before falling to his knees, gasping as the impact rattles his bones, but there’s no pain.

But there are sparkling lights coming through the trees.

A multitude of colors—fiery reds, chilling blues, and ethereal whites—reach him through the snow.

 _It’s help,_ Kevin realizes as he grits his teeth together and stands. He forces himself to trudge towards the shore, towards the lights coming towards him, and the chorus of his name being shouted from the river’s edge.

He keeps walking towards safety until the slow descent of darkness stops him and he sinks to the ground, unaware of his blood mixing with the ice and snow and gloriously warm hands touching his face.

The last moment Kevin’s aware of is the image of fire and ice and Archie’s face hovering above his own.

Then there’s nothing.

Nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes, he doesn’t remember why or how he’s still alive.

Only that there’s a heaviness in his limbs and warmth bleeding into his body while a mixture of soft, melodic sounds—a beep here, a hush there—remain woefully out of reach. An anti-bacterial smell cuts through the nasal cannula fixed over his cheeks and in his nostrils. Kevin slowly lifts his heavy eyelids; the effort seems to take years, though Kevin is sure it’s only minutes.

As Kevin turns his head, his eyes flutter open to a dimly lit hospital room filled with balloons and an array of colorful bouquets in vases. The last thing he remembers is being submerged in cold and heat rushing from his body. Kevin’s stare follows the IV pole hanging over his bed, holding multiple bags those tubes lead to the ones inserted into the top of his hand.

Everything feels stiff and sore—especially his shoulder, lower back, and leg. Kevin grunts as he tries to move his body to a more comfortable position before giving up completely. He knows he’s in the hospital, but has no idea why and, honestly, his quick search for answers has only brought up more questions.

A chair yawns under someone’s weight as they move closer to him, causing the air to shift. Kevin looks to the other side of his bed to find his father sitting beside him. Tom Keller seems older than Kevin remembers; his crow’s feet are more prominent while his hair has turned practically white overnight.

“Hey,” his father greets with a tired, but relieved smile. Tears brighten his eyes as he reaches for Kevin’s hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. “Welcome back, kiddo.”

Kevin smiles back as his eyelids drift shut for a moment. He’s never been _so fucking exhausted_ in his entire life. Not even when he caught the flu from Reggie Mantle in fifth grade did Kevin feel so wrung out that breathing makes him want to sleep forever.

Somehow, Kevin thinks this would feel worse if his dad wasn’t around. His father worries his thumb over his knuckles while his other hand brushes through Kevin’s hair. “Still with me?”

He nods, too exhausted to speak as he basks under his father’s attention. God, he had missed him more than he thought he would. Kevin wishes he could tell him so.

“Go back to sleep.” His father leans over Kevin to kiss his forehead. He continues gently soothing Kevin’s hair back. “Someone will be here the next time you wake up.”

So he sleeps.

 

* * *

 

He drifts in and out, dancing on the fine line of consciousness and sleep.

Sometimes Kevin hears his father’s voice rumbling in the distance or catches a whiff of Sierra’s perfume or listens for Josie’s gentle soprano as she hums softly in his ear. His family’s gathered by his bedside while Kevin’s body submerges himself in a healing sleep. It’s like floating in the ocean where everything is so still and silent.

It’s uncomplicated and safe and it’s been so long since Kevin has felt safe.

 

* * *

 

“Well, it’s about time,” Josie says impatiently when Kevin blinks himself awake once more.

She’s sitting in the chair his father has occupied, filing her nails. Josie McCoy looks just like Kevin remembers her—impeccably dressed with her dark curls piled high upon her head and a bright smile on her face. “Hey you,” she greets.

God, he’s missed her! Kevin grins tiredly as he focuses on her face. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he says, his throat twinging from the effort. The pain mirrors itself in his shoulder and lower back. Come to think of it, his thigh hurts too.

Josie tilts her head, pursing her mouth together. “And you look… _sore_.” She reaches for the bedside table where a jar and a stack of paper cups reside. “Water?”

“Please,” Kevin says. He lifts his chin as Josie presses a waxy paper cup to his mouth. Cool water touches his lips, then his throat and he begins gulping it down.

“Go slow or it’ll end up all over you instead of in you,” she warns. Josie raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow—the same way she looks when she firing off one of her amazing clapbacks or saying something hilarious. “And I don’t know about you, but I don’t clean up my or other people’s vomit. Even if the other person is my soon-to-be step-brother.”

Kevin rolls his eyes but listens. He doesn’t feel like throwing up all over himself and tear the stitches he’s pretty sure are in his body. Once he’s had his fill, Kevin gently brushes Josie’s hand away. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Josie tells him as she sets the cup down. “Your dad is at home on mom’s orders. She said he needed to get a night of sleep that wasn’t in a chair.” When Kevin doesn’t say anything, she studies him. “Okay, are you just super stoic or do they have you on so much happy juice that you don’t realize that Hiram Lodge tried to carve out your spleen?”

He blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“They’ve got you on the good stuff, huh?” Josie teases.

Kevin touches his stomach and finds the edges of gauze under his hospital gown. He follows the trail as it curves around his side and back. “Seriously? Did he?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Josie says as she takes his hand and holds it in her own. “It was just your kidney…and he kind of succeeded.” Sighing at the bewildered look that Kevin _knows_ is on his face, she continues. “The surgeon couldn’t save it, so you’re down to one, but at least it’s still working, so…silver lining?”

He makes a face. “But what does Hiram Lodge have to do with it?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really. I know I was at Archie’s house when Hiram called.” Kevin sags against the pillows, trying to recall that night while Josie rubs her thumb over his bruised knuckles. “He kept taunting him and Fred; everyone, really. Hiram wanted Archie to meet with him one on one.”

He remembers going into the hallway, away from the commotion, to breathe when he realizes there’s something hard and plastic in his pocket. He remembers knowing how important it was to Archie’s freedom, to Hiram Lodge once he learns of its existence—to Kevin, himself.

He remembers his quiet footsteps on hardwood flooring as he crept to the Andrews’ front door and thinking that he wished he got to see his dad before stepping into the cold night.

Then it fades to darkness with only splices of incoherent sights and sounds.

“You okay?” Josie asks, drawing Kevin out of his chaotic thoughts. She squeezes his fingers. “Kev?”

Kevin looks at her, feeling dazed and out of place. “I couldn’t let Archie go to him,” he whispers, his voice cracking as tears burn his eyes. “I had to protect him. I had to…”

Josie’s cool hands touch his cheeks, cradling his head as she meets his gaze. “You did. You protected him.”

Tears blur his vision before they fall down his cheeks. “He’s okay? Hiram didn’t hurt him?”

“Archie’s at home with his parents,” she tells him as she wipes his tears away and kisses his forehead. “You kept him safe and they’ve exonerated him thanks to the information you and Betty were able to dig up.”

Kevin swallows. “But…”

“Kev,” Josie sighs. “I promise you he’s safe.” She brushes Kevin’s hair from his face, making an annoyed, clicking sound with her tongue to match her equally annoyed expression. “Honey, we’ve got to do something about this. Hospital chic isn’t your style.”

He snorts. “Everything’s my style,” Kevin argues as he wiggles around to make himself more comfortable before Josie helps him. With a few more pillows and an adjustment of the hospital bed, he’s finally able to take the pressure off his lower back and shoulder. “Do you know the damage?”

“I recruited Betty and Jughead to steal your chart,” Josie says a bit too proudly. Honestly, Kevin’s starting to wonder if he’s becoming a bad influence on her. “You’re looking at hypothermia, blood loss, and losing a vital organ. Knowing this place, they probably harvested it for some sort of sacrifice to a forest creature.”

Kevin rolls his eyes. “Maybe someone has a black market organ harvesting ring operating within city limits.”

“You’ve missed a lot,” Josie exclaims, gleefully. “The state troopers busted up some cult that was working with Penelope Blossom to harvest organs from their followers a few weeks ago! There was something about a farm, but I think Sweet Pea was making that part up.” They laugh for a while before Josie turns serious. “You know I wouldn’t be teasing you like this if you were going to die, right?”

He nods.

“At first, I thought you might because…” Josie pauses to compose herself, but if the tears in her dark eyes are any indication, she had been worried about him. “The doctors kept saying you were going to fine, and now you’re awake. Just…don’t that again. Or you’ll _wish_ you were dead once I’m through with you.”

Kevin cracks a smile. “I think you might be second or third in line after my dad and Betty.”

“What about Archie?” Josie asks with a coy smirk. She watches Kevin as his cheeks turn bright red at the first mention of their friend’s name. “Uh huh…just what Betty and I suspected. You _like_ him!”

“No,” he protests. “I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that I’m in love with him.”

Josie’s expression fades as she squeezes his hand. “Oh, Kevin,” she says in that tone—the one where she pities him—as she scoots closer to Kevin’s bedside. “I’m sure he loves you as a friend, but…”

 _Archie isn’t like you_ hangs heavily in the space between them and Kevin won’t tell Josie otherwise. Archie’s sexuality is his business to reveal and Kevin would never betray that trust.

“Already pestering the patient, I see,” Sierra McCoy announces from the doorway. She’s arm in arm with Kevin’s dad, wearing the same bright smile he’s seen mirrored in Josie. Sierra goes to Kevin’s bedside and leans in to kiss his forehead. “Hi, sweetie.”

Kevin closes his eyes and sighs, revealed that he won’t have to face any more of Josie’s questioning—or worse, her pity. “Hey.”

“Kiddo,” his dad greets. He’s standing opposite of Sierra and Josie when Kevin blinks, looking rested and relieved to see his son awake and talking. His father touches his uninjured shoulder. “Has she been bothering you at all?”

Josie gasps. “I don’t bother anyone,” she declares. “Kev will tell you that I’m a _perfect_ angel!”

“Kevin’s also on high doses of pain medication,” Tom points out.

“So?” Josie replies.

Kevin watches his dad smile fondly at her. “Anything he says is inadmissible in a court of law.”

“We’re in a hospital room,” Josie says as she folds her arms over her chest. “Not a courtroom.”

Tom Keller chuckles as he looks at Sierra. “She’s got your spunk, CiCi.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sierra wraps her arm around Josie’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go to Pop’s for a milkshake and let the boys catch up?” she suggests.

Josie nods approvingly as she jumps up from her seat. “Maybe we can bring something back for Kevin.”

“Not quite yet,” Tom says, offering Kevin a sympathetic grin. “The doctors want to keep you on a bland diet for a little while.”

Honestly, Kevin hasn’t had much of an appetite during the brief moments he’s been awake and this time is no different. He’s being pumped full of medications—some for the pain, others are probably antibiotics—and dealing with the effects of a healing body. “Maybe later?” he says to Josie. “We could have celebratory milkshakes once I get the all clear.”

“Sounds like a plan, almost-step-brother,” Josie replies, winking. She and her mom say their goodbyes before shutting the hospital room door behind them.

Kevin lets out a deep sigh as he sinks against the pillows. He reaches for his dad’s hand and clutches it like his father will disappear. “Dad, I’m sorry,” he says as unexpected tears spring in his eyes. “I should have stayed at the Andrews’…”

He expects his dad to chastise him for being an idiot and risking his life like that, but Tom Keller manages to surprise him. “Do you know why I became an officer?”

“You like helping people?” Kevin replies, wondering where his dad is going with this. “And arresting teenage sons who don’t listen to their fathers.”

Tom squints at him, looking both amused _and_ perplexed. “Because I _want_ to serve and protect those under my jurisdiction.” His father cups both of Kevin’s tear-stained cheeks in his large hands. “How did I end up having such a brave son?”

“I get it from you,” Kevin replies, dumbly.

Tom shakes his head. “No, I was never like that at your age. Foolhardy, yes,” he says. “But the thought of putting my neck on the line for someone else never crossed my mind.” Sniffling, he dabs his eyes and smiles.

“But you did that every day when you were the sheriff,” Kevin begins to say.

“Once I was a bit older and wiser, yes, but what you did—keeping Hiram Lodge from hurting, perhaps murdering Archie—was exceptionally brave.”

Kevin swallows uncomfortably at his father mentioning this heroic deed he has no recollection of. He has the scant details from Josie and not much else. “I don’t remember what happened,” he whispers. “I mean…I remember some of it, but it’s only bits and pieces. Josie mentioned that Hiram Lodge carved out my kidney.”

Tom scrubs his hand over his face and lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah, he did.” He sits on the edge of the bed, clearly struggling to find the right words to tell Kevin something. “The police think that you and Hiram were on the ice when it broke open.”

“The ice?”

“You met him at Sweetwater River,” Tom tells him. “Is any of this ringing a bell?”

He tries to picture the frozen river and Hiram Lodge standing on the shore. All that comes to Kevin is a commotion coming from a distance, the sound of footsteps on a hardwood floor, and a door clicking shut—echoing and echoing until it fades away.

“No,” Kevin intones. He closes his eyes as his dad rubs his uninjured shoulder. “I remember leaving Archie’s house, but the rest is just… _gone_.”

“Well, you did just wake up,” his father says, trying to be supportive. “It’ll take some time.”

Kevin can only nod. “It seems I’ll have a lot of time on my hands since wrestling with one kidney is out of the question,” he grouses.

“You can focus on your grades.”

“I have a three point nine,” Kevin points out. He wipes freshly fallen tears away. “What else happened to me?”

Tom shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “You took a bullet in the shoulder and got stabbed in the thigh.” He gives Kevin a stern look. “Which is why the doctors want you to take it easy before returning to school.”

“Hiram Lodge really did a number on me,” Kevin says as he picks at his cuticles and wonders if he’ll get to thank the bastard for nearly killing him. “I hope I gave as good as I got.” His father’s silence makes Kevin look up in confusion. “Dad?”

They sit quietly, staring at each other until Tom finally speaks. “Hiram Lodge is dead.”

Kevin’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“The police found his body several miles downriver,” his father begins to explain. Deep frown lines appear on his forehead. “He drowned under the ice, then the current carried him until it was able to spit him out.”

He waits for the punchline because Hiram Lodge being dead has to be a joke. The man is the living embodiment of the Devil—so terrible that Hell would probably find a way to resurrect him to avoid the nuisance—and too wily to suffer a demise as simple as drowning. This is a person—if one could call him that—who bilked hundreds of people out of millions of dollars, tore a town apart for his own gain, framed a teenage boy for a murder he didn’t commit, and so many other things that Kevin can’t recall them all.

“He’s dead,” Kevin whispers. He needs to hear the words spoken aloud to believe them. “Are you sure?”

Tom nods. “Sierra saw the body herself.”

“Does Archie know?”

His father hesitates before answering. “Not yet,” he says. “Fred thought it would be better to wait until we knew more about your condition. Archie…uh…you being hospitalized hit him hard.”

It’s surprising to hear this given how excited Archie seemed for his life to go back to normal. Kevin definitely remembers arguing about it during the drive back to Riverdale. That was before Hiram’s threats were all he could think of.

“Kevin?”

He realizes he’s been staring at the wall for the last few minutes. “I’m fine,” Kevin assures his dad, smiling awkwardly. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees as he takes Kevin’s hand into his own. “It is.”

 

* * *

 

Kevin’s released from the hospital a week later.

Honestly, he never thought he’d be so happy to see the likes of Riverdale again but being cooped up in a hospital room does strange things to a person. Kevin can’t wait to see the new house his dad and Sierra moved into while he was away or what magic Josie and Betty worked on his bedroom.

By the time he gets home, all Kevin wants to do is take a long hot shower and fall into bed, which is exactly what he does.

Well, not exactly.

The shower isn’t long, but it is hot. It soothes his aching muscles and turns his pale skin pink, leaving Kevin feeling drowsy and comfortable by the time he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before stumbling to his bed. He doesn’t do the graceful faceplant he’s been dreaming of—he’d probably rip his stitches and get ripped a new asshole if he does that—but it ends with a blissful sigh.

“You alright there?” Josie asks from the doorway.

Kevin hears her giggles but doesn’t care. “Even though hospitals are supposed to promote healing, they aren’t particularly restful.” He lifts his head off the pillow, flashing Josie a wide grin. “Also, nothing is better than your own bed.”

Josie shrugs as she comes into his room. “Too bad about the delay and losing an organ.” She sits down by Kevin’s feet. “Need anything, almost-step-brother of mine?”

“A hot guy to kiss me and make it better.”

Much to his chagrin, Josie doesn’t even try to hide her laughter. “Well, I have a hot guy who’s wanting to see you, but I don’t think he’ll kiss and make it better,” she tells him as she pats his calf.

Kevin lifts his head off the pillow, eyes wide. “What?”

“Archie’s here. He came over as soon as I sent out a group text that you were home,” Josie whispers.

“Where is he?”

“Talking to your dad,” she tells him. “Are you up for visitors, Kev?”

He rolls from his stomach to his back, grunting and groaning and nodding furiously as his body protests the movement. He needs to see Archie as much as Archie needs to see him, which is a scary thought. Maybe he’s here to let Kevin down easy. “Could you help me prop up some pillows?”

It takes a little while, but together they’re able to make a comfortable pile for Kevin to lean against. He’s glad he has a week or two—depending on how he’s feeling and what his doctor says—before going back to school because _holy shit_ he hurts. _Everywhere!_

“Ready?” Josie asks as she fluffs one of the pillows.

Kevin isn’t, but he nods anyway and watches Josie leave his bedroom to bring Archie up. While he waits, Kevin picks nervously at his sweatpants and tries to remember to take deep breaths because it _would be_ his luck to pass out from hyperventilation only two hours after being released from the hospital. Ugh, what is his life?

The stairs creak as Josie and Archie come up them, causing Kevin’s heartbeat to race. He wants to play it cool and collected, but he never had to before. As much as Kevin saw a side of Archie most haven’t, the same goes for Kevin. They were uninhibited around one another and trying to pretend doesn’t feel right.

Someone raps on the doorframe. “Kev,” Josie calls. When he looks up, his eyes go straight to Archie towering behind her petite frame.

He looks disheveled in that way one does when they’ve rushed out of the house to get somewhere. His hair’s in artful, _fucking perfect_ disarray—like he’s been transplanted from a _GQ_ spread—while he’s wearing a faded sweatshirt over a pair of well-worn in jeans. Archie seems more like a matinee idol than a high school student.

Josie might say something else, but Kevin only catches the awkward, “I’ll leave you guys to it.” With that, she’s gone while he and Archie are left staring at each other.

“Hey,” Kevin says after a while. There’s no way he can hide that nervous warble in his voice. “Welcome to the sick ro—”

Archie’s mouth pressed against his own leaves Kevin confused and surprised. He hadn’t expected this kind of welcome—the exact opposite, to be honest—and it takes a moment for the rest of his brain to catch up. When it does, Kevin’s lips part at the behest of Archie’s insistent tongue. He groans at Archie’s taste and the feeling of him against his body. The feeling of Archie’s hands cupping his face, the silkiness of his hair on Kevin’s fingers, his warmth.

God, he _missed_ him!

He reaches for Archie to pull him closer, forgetting that his family is downstairs and he’s just been released from the hospital with three new scars. His body, however, hasn’t forgotten. Pain shoots through his arm, tearing through him and every injury he sustained like it’s skipping stones over a lake. Kevin breaks the kiss to groan and curse because, fuck, it _hurts_. “Sorry,” he manages to say through clenched teeth. “Give me a minute.”

A minute passes and he realizes that pain is, in fact, a total mood killer or should be. Archie’s kissing his forehead, where his eyelashes touch his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and, finally, his lips. Kevin relaxes into the press of Archie’s mouth and sighs.

“You,” Archie says somewhere between Kevin’s jaw and neck, “are impossible!” He pulls back, his dark eyes catching the sunlight spilling into Kevin’s bedroom and turning them amber. “You could have died, Kev.”

Kevin has heard this on rote since he came to in the hospital. “So people have told me.” He watches a frown appear between Archie’s brows. “I don’t really remember what happened. It begins to go fuzzy between the time I left your house and when I woke up.”

“Your dad mentioned it.” Archie tilts his head as he searches for something on Kevin’s face. “Do you remember the argument we had on our way into town?”

He does and he wishes he didn’t. “Yeah. Not one of my finest hours.”

“Same,” Archie agrees. He runs his teeth over his bottom lip; Kevin already knows that Archie’s about to ask the hard questions because Archie is fearless and brave. “Why did you think I was using you for sex?”

Kevin swallows as he looks away. “Most guys would and most guys have. I’ve been the dirty little secret before—with Moose—and it’s not something I want to experience again. I thought…” He stares at his hands, picking at the cut and bruised skin.

“You thought I was going to do the same thing,” Archie finishes.

He nods. “When you said that everything would go back to normal, I heard was that you wanted dances from the big game, Friday night dates at Pop’s, applying to colleges…all with Veronica on your arm.”

“But Kev—” Archie begins to say.

“I thought you used me,” Kevin continues, more quietly. “I was afraid that you didn’t feel the same way…”

Archie lifts his chin, offering Kevin a smile when their eyes meet. “I _do_ feel the same way.”

“You do?” Kevin asks.

“Yeah, I do,” Archie tells him. He runs his thumb over Kevin’s jaw. “I realized it before we left the cabin, but I wasn’t sure if you were ready for another boyfriend.” He brushes Kevin’s hair off his forehead. “Then you went after Hiram…” Archie’s eyes brighten with tears. “You could have just told me instead of getting yourself nearly killed,” he tries to joke.

Kevin reaches for his lover’s cheek to wipe his tears away. “I’m in love with you,” he whispers.

Archie leans into his touch. “I’m in love with you, too.” He turns into Kevin’s palm, brushing his lips against the skin. “Those things you talked about—Friday nights at Pop’s, going to dances after the big game, life returning to normal—I want that with you.”

“Yeah?” Kevin moves closer.

“Yeah,” Archie says, closing the distance between them.

The first brush of Archie’s lips against his own causes the world to fall away, so different from earlier when he needed to know that Kevin was alive. He sighs into the press of his lover’s tongue gently opening Kevin up and Archie’s hands caressing his cheeks as their breaths mingle. Kevin runs his fingers down Archie’s spine, pulling him closer until they’re flushed together.

Kevin never knew a kiss could be so sweet and gentle, so loving and wonderful. If only his body wasn’t sinking into the tantalizing pull of sleep. “Arch,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against Archie’s shoulder. “Can we lie down for a little while?”

“Anything you want,” Archie tells him with fondness in his voice as he strokes Kevin’s hair. “Anything, Kev.”

 

* * *

 

It’s strange waking up in his own room.

It’s even stranger waking up in his own room with Archie’s arm slung over his waist.

Kevin rubs the heel of his palm against his eye, grunting softly as he finds his bearings. He doesn’t need to look out the window or even at his iPhone screen to know it’s nighttime and he’s slept the day away in Archie’s arms. Honestly, Kevin needed it more than he realized.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Archie murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

Hearing it makes Kevin grin. “I am?” he asks.

“Uh huh,” Archie teases as he kisses the back of Kevin’s neck. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Kevin laces their fingers together. “It’s strange being back in my room—well…my new room—and to be here in Riverdale after we were gone for so long. Even the traffic outside feels…odd.”

“That’s because we were practically in the Canadian wilderness,” Archie points out.

And he’s right. They were surrounded by such lush greenery—tall spruces, pines, oak trees—and beauty. Even the silence was welcomed; it was like stepping out a nightmare and into a fairytale. All they needed was the fantastical creatures scurrying about.

The cabin was meant to be a hideout for Archie while Kevin—with Betty’s guidance and help—gathered evidence to clear Archie’s name. It was quiet and secluded and, in retrospect, the perfect place to fall in love.

“Do you miss it?” Kevin asks. He turns his head to look at the faint outline of Archie’s face. Even in semi-darkness, he knows every curve and sharp edge, each freckle, and scar.

Archie’s fingers touch his cheek. “Yeah. Especially at night because you would sleep next to me,” he whispers. “I always sleep better when you’re there.”

“My dad mentioned you were pretty upset when I was in the hospital,” Kevin admits. He presses his mouth against Archie’s palm.

Archie makes a sound between a snort and a chuckle. It’s filled with sadness—of loss, of worry, of every horrible thing that’s happened to Archie Andrews rolled into a single noise. “Kev, I was a mess. When everyone realized you were missing, I knew where you went. I can’t explain it, Kev, but I just _knew_. A bunch of us rushed over to the Pembrooke, but you were already gone and those bodyguards…” Archie pauses for a moment as he reaches over to the bedside table and flicks on the lamp. A warm glow fills the room and illuminates Archie’s tear-filled eyes. “Your dad met us over there and, man, he’s scary when he’s angry.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kevin says.

“That’s because you’re a good kid,” Archie points out with a grin. “And you stay out of trouble.”

Kevin shrugs. “Most of the time.”

“Yeah,” Archie intones. He clears his throat. “The bodyguards told us where they had taken you and by the time we arrived with the police, you were already on the ice and Hiram was…” His body begins to tremble, filled with the tension of saying his abuser’s—his worst nightmare’s—name. Tears swell at his waterline before spilling over and running down his cheeks. Kevin watches their trek until they disappear under Archie’s jaw. “You were…I found you in a pool of blood,” he manages to choke out before turning away.

He sobs into his fist with his eyes closed, still leaking tears. Kevin lies there, paralyzed by what Archie’s told him; what others failed to mention. He knew it had been bad since he lost a kidney for fuck’s sake but massive blood loss? _Near fucking death!_

“I don’t remember what happened,” Kevin stammers. He takes one of Archie’s hands in his. “I know I was in your house before I met with Hiram, but between then and waking up in the hospital that’s fuzzy.”

Archie nods in understanding. “My dad told me.” His thumb brushes over Kevin’s knuckle. “Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world.”

“Maybe, but it would be nice to know what happened out there,” Kevin grouses.

“Hiram Lodge is dead. That’s all I need to know,” Archie states.

Kevin tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah. He won’t be terrorizing me—or anyone—anymore,” the other boy says. He brings Kevin’s hand to his mouth and kisses the bruised skin. “I talked to Veronica.”

Hearing Veronica’s name makes Kevin realize that he nearly forgot about her, though, then again, he’s recovering from being shot and stabbed by her father. “How is she? Is she okay?” he asks, nervously. Despite everything, she’s his friend and she is not Hiram Lodge; she is kind and fiercely loyal. “Does she hate me?”

“Kev, Ronnie doesn’t hate you,” Archie tells him before noticing the unconvinced look on Kevin’s face. He rolls his eyes. “She hates what her dad has done to everyone, especially us, but she’s dealing. I think she’s mostly worried about her mom.”

That makes sense, though Kevin isn’t sure that Hermione Lodge is much better than her dearly departed husband. “Her mom isn’t going to try to say I murdered him, is she?”

“What? No!” Archie shakes his head. “Unlike her husband, Mrs. Lodge knows when to stop. Besides, she stepped down as mayor and from what Ronnie told me, she might be leaving town for a while.”

Kevin sighs with relief; one less shady Lodge in town, the better. “Is Veronica going with her?”

“Staying here. She’s dating Reggie,” Archie says, shrugging. “She seems happy and I’m happy that you’re going to be okay.”

“No more wrestling, though,” Kevin points out.

Archie sighs as he caresses Kevin’s cheek. “But you’re alive, Kev. There’s always next season and you can direct the school musical.”

“Hopefully someone else won’t get murdered,” he quips, leaning closer to Archie. “I hope we lead mundane, boring lives after all of this.” His lover’s laughter fills his ears. It’s a sweet, wonderful melody he hopes he gets to hear more of.

“Yeah,” Archie says as he closes the distance between them. His lips brush against Kevin’s. “Same.”

 

* * *

 

_Ten Years Later_

He lies in bed, watching as Archie mouths a trail down his body, and thinks he could do this forever.

The sharp edges of Archie’s teeth find sensitive spots—the starburst scar on his shoulder, the other one on his lower back, the skin under his ribs, near his belly button, the crest leading to his pelvis, puckered tissue on his thigh—and soothe it over with his tongue. Kevin groans, tightening his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair and allows his legs to fall open. He feels Archie’s chuckle against his stomach and grins. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Mhm,” Archie murmurs. He looks at Kevin through his lashes. “Always. You?”

Kevin nods. “Always. I’m glad we came here,” he replies as he leans back and closes his eyes.

Archie sucks a bruise into his hip. “You say that every time we come up here.” He pulls the blankets further down Kevin’s naked body.

He opens his eyes, imprinting the image of Archie’s golden, freckle-covered shoulders between his thighs and sunlit red hair. Ten years together and his boyfriend is still the most beautiful thing Kevin has seen. “I’m not wrong,” Kevin reminds him.

“No, you’re not,” Archie agrees. He shoves Kevin’s legs over his shoulders and leans in to press their mouths together. Archie coaxes his lips apart with his tongue as he rubs his cock against Kevin’s wet, loose hole before shoving himself inside. He breaks away to curse aloud. “ _Fuck,_ Kev!”

Kevin digs his fingernails into Archie’s forearms as a delicious burn fills his body. “Baby,” he moans in reply. He catches his boyfriend’s lips with his own, kissing the corner of his mouth and thinks he’ll never be tired of this—the way Archie makes him feel, the way his stomach filled with butterflies whenever they touch even after ten years together, how much he loves him.

Honestly, it’s the stuff Hallmark movies are made out of.

A burst of white-hot pleasure runs from his prostate, up his spine, and spreads throughout his body. Kevin rocks into Archie’s rhythm—harder, faster until all he’s aware of is Archie’s skin against his own, his body clenching around his lover’s cock, their mouths finding each other.

“Archie,” Kevin whimpers through swollen lips, so desperate that his body’s shaking with desire. He nips at his lover’s mouth, tasting the salty-sweetness of Archie’s skin.

His boyfriend drags his teeth over Kevin’s jaw. “I’ve got you,” he whispers into his ear as Archie takes him in hand. His fingers tighten around Kevin’s throbbing length, causing Kevin’s mind to short circuit. “Come on, baby,” Archie says as he strokes his cock. “I want to hear you.”

“Harder,” he begs, voice cracking with need. Kevin grabs Archie’s hips, encouraging him to keep going, to keep pushing his pleasure to the limit. “Please, baby. _Please!_ ”

He feels Archie’s rhythm change—the uncoordinated movement of his hips, his ragged breathing, his body trembling in time with Kevin’s. It’s the part Kevin likes best: when both of them lose control.

And they do.

With their fingers twined, Kevin and Archie find their orgasms together and it’s perfect. So perfect that Kevin’s eyes fill with happy tears.

Ten years of happiness and love. Kevin’s so lucky, so very lucky and appreciative that he has Archie in his life. That he’s the one who gets to wake up to him and kiss him goodnight.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Archie asks a while later, once they’ve cleaned themselves up and changed the sheets. He’s walking his fingers over Kevin’s back, tracing invisible constellations on his skin.

Kevin lifts his head off the pillow to look at him. “Us,” he says. “Coming here on our anniversary.”

“Maybe we should move up here,” his boyfriend suggests, wagging his eyebrows.

Living in seclusion would probably drive them crazy and, besides, they have their life back in Boston. Kevin thinks of their apartment in Brookline and respective careers—him being a recently-licensed architect and Archie, an A&R representative for Sony Music—as well as the friends they’ve made there.

With all of the things they’ve been through as a couple—surviving high school _and_ college, burying Fred Andrews after his fatal heart attack and Archie’s unimaginable grief, moving to a new city where they knew virtually no one—they did it together and are stronger for it.

Kevin rolls onto his back to get a better look at his boyfriend. The sun peeks out from the clouds, illuminating Archie’s fiery locks and turning his dark eyes into warm amber and Kevin thinks, _Yup. I’ll never get tired of this. Of us._ “One week a year is enough for me.”

“What about when we grow old together?” Archie questions. He kisses the starburst scar on Kevin’s shoulder, then rubs it with his calloused thumb. “What about then?”

He touches the stubble peppering Archie’s face and grins. “Only if we are surrounded by at least a dozen dogs.”

“We’re bartering now?” Archie teases as he leans away to open the top drawer of the bedside table.

“You’re the one who wants me to live away from civilization when we grow old and gray,” Kevin points out. He admires how Archie’s back muscles move under his skin as he rummages through the drawer. “You’ll probably go ginger. Maybe white. Either way, you are going to be a silver fox, Archie Andrews.”

Archie bursts out in laughter as he turns to Kevin. “And you are always going to be beautiful, Kevin Keller.” He brushes Kevin’s hair off his forehead. “If one of us is going to be a silver fox, it’s you.”

“You’re changing the subject,” Kevin tells him. “At least a dozen dogs.”

“Only if you say yes,” Archie retorts.

Kevin raises a brow. “What am I saying yes to?” The last time he blindly agreed to something, Kevin ended up tied to their bed with a vibrator inside of him _for hours_ and _that look_ on Archie’s face isn’t helping. Until…

Until he sees the platinum band held between Archie’s fingers.

“To this,” Archie says shakily. “To a lifetime of us. To a house in the woods with a million dogs. To rushed mornings and quiet evenings. To a leading mundane, boring life as my husband.”

Kevin lifts his eyes from the band— _his engagement ring_ —to Archie, whose eyes are bright with tears and wonders if he’s dreaming. “Your husband?”

“If you say yes,” his boyfriend tells him. “Only if you say yes.”

“Yes,” Kevin manages to say as he begins to cry; well, sob really. He throws himself into Archie’s arms and peppers his face with kisses, exclaiming over _his fiance’s_ delighted laughter, “Yes! Yes, I’ll be your husband!”

Archie slides the ring onto Kevin’s finger and presses his lips to the knuckle. “It looks good on you,” he muses as he turns the band, admiring it with a smile.

“We’ll need to get you one, too,” Kevin points out as he watches Archie play with his engagement ring. “ _Fiance_.”

The other man hums in happiness. “I like the sound of that,” Archie says. “Being your fiance, Kevin Keller.”

“Mm, same, Archie Andrews,” he replies, closing the distance between them. “Same.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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